Wraith
by Fifth
Summary: The story of a contract killer, his lonely contact, an android, and Sentinel Lyons involving a conspiracy that could drag the Capital Wasteland back into a hopeless void following the events of Project Purity.
1. Post Purity

Wraith

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fallout 3. I only own my original characters.

**Chapter 1: Post-Purity**

The waters ran fresh, but nothing much changed.

"When I want you to please the customers, I want you to do it," Moriarty ordered her, raising his voice just enough to indicate his disappointment in today's earnings. "I don't care if the lad or lass is fat, thin, rich, poor, stupid, or smart. If there are caps to be earned, then you need to earn them."

Nova ran a few fingers along her lips, wiping away the fresh blood that came from Moriarty's punishment. She hated his guts, but he was the only one who could protect her in this town. Every day, she had to tolerate those revolting looks from lone travelers traversing across the wasteland. Though she learned to endure the lowliness of being a whore, she still hated it. She knew that there were other things she was even better at.

"Now, it's gettin' late, and I'm closin' up," he said. "Get out of my office. Tomorrow, earn twice as much as today, you hear?"

"Yes, Colin," she muttered.

And yet, the waters ran fresh. But nothing much changed.

She moped her way out of the room after Moriarty, Megaton's only crime boss, marched his way up to his quarters. Gob was still up washing a few dishes and wiping down the counters, pretending to ignore or be oblivious to the argument that had just happened in the office. Obviously, he would be oblivious to the commotion since arguments were frequent. There was only one customer in the saloon, and he seemed to be busy, reading the daily newsletter. After the events at Project Purity at the Jefferson Memorial, the entire wasteland was reinvigorated with hope. Many raiders gave up their ways of life and helped establish and expand towns. The children from Lamplight traveled to Big Town to find a sense of parenthood. The residents in Tenpenny Tower were no longer complaining so much about the wasteland.

The waters ran fresh. Perhaps some things have changed.

"Don't let him get to ya, Nova," Gob spoke. "You deserve better."

"Thanks, Gob," she replied, her night suddenly brightening up a bit.

Her attention quickly darted towards the man reading the paper, however. She hadn't seen him in town before. Could he be here for the night? The man, dressed in a dark tan trench coat over a jet-black shirt, did not seem to be a normal traveler. His dark brown hair was stylishly groomed and his sitting position brimmed with elegance. He looked like he had more money than the average wastelander. Handsome man, too. Hopefully he'd be nice like that man Mister Burke who was here about half a year ago.

"Hey, hon," she called over to him, strutting sultrily around the bar counter towards his seat in the corner. "You stayin' in town for the night?"

The man took a drag from his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. He grabbed his sunglasses sitting on the table next to the ashtray and hung them inside his coat pocket. When he looked up at her, she felt a warm rush rise up her chest. His deep hazel eyes pierced through her.

"It depends," he said, his voice deep, urbane, and commanding.

"Depends on what, hon?"

"Depends on if I want to stay tonight."

He was definitely playing with her, and she knew it. Perhaps she'd be able to get enough money tonight, and since Moriarty was sleeping, she could probably keep this to herself. Nova walked over and bent over to meet her face with his, placing her hands on his thighs. "Don't worry about a thing, babe. You're gonna want to stay tonight. I'll make it worth your while."

Unlike most customers, who would be sold by now, he kept an unmoved expression and maintained his gaze. "I'm sure you will. But, I'm in town on business, and business keeps me busy."

She ran a hand up his coat and gripped the collar, lightly pulling him towards her. "Business is stressful, darling. You should take tonight off and spend some time with me. It isn't very often that gentlemen like you come in here."

"Sorry, but I'm working right now."

Her eyes slightly widened. "What?"

The door from behind opened and she stood straight, facing the doorway. Without turning around, Gob was already shooing them off.

"Sorry, but we're closed fer' tonight and all rooms're booked. You can check the common houses across town if you'd like."

"Aw, c'mon, Gob. You can't even be open enough for supplies?"

Amata walked in the room, dressed in a jacket over the odd-looking Vault suit that the Lone Wanderer—James, Jr., after his father—sported when he first entered. She had been coming for months now, just after the events of Project Purity, to get water for the Vault. Apparently, she was the Overseer and though she could easily have others come collect the supplies, she enjoyed the "fresh" air. She was a known figure in Megaton now, though only because the Wanderer had established himself so well in the Wasteland.

"Oh hey, kid," Gob waved. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute. Is the Brahmin outside?"

"Yep," she cuddled in her jacket, signifying the chill from the outside. "They're waiting and freezing."

"How's it going, Amata?" Nova called out, stepping away from the man in the corner. "The Vault life been okay?"

Amata nodded. "Yep. Hasn't been too bad. We're almost ready to leave completely. I'm hearing some pretty good things about other cities in the wasteland. Rivet City is 'alright,' according to Butch. Actually, I think it might be just me who wants to leave. Everyone else seems okay…"

"Rivet City, huh? Always wanted to go there…"

"If I ever decide to leave, why don't you come with me?" Amata offered.

Nova quickly chuckled and shook her head. "Nah. Colin would never let me. As long as I'm still young and worth a look, he wouldn't let me go."

"That's too bad," she replied. "Maybe we could convince him?"

"Good luck with that, kid. Plus, I was only half-joking. Rivet City would be nice, but I'm also safer here."

"Well, if you really want to leave, just let me know. I'm serious about escaping that hole forever. With or without my father. Ever since, well…ever since Jim died…"

The waters ran fresh. Some things _will_ change.

--

His calculations had to be exact. He had to find an opening. Though there was only that whore and the spineless zombie in the room, not to mention that Vault chick (he always recognized Vault fabric, even if the entire suit was not visible), all it took was one shout or scream to wake up the local patrol. Last time he was here there was only that black man Simms, Stockholm, and the idiotic protectron outside the gates. Now there were a few more people on the town guard, and order finally began taking its toll. Jobs like these would be much harder now that hope was inspired by that naïve Vault Dweller who restored fresh water in the DC area. Things like these were bad for business, even if they were for the benefit of humanity. He wasn't the most evil of men, but when a savior figure like James, Jr. emerges to disrupt the _business_, he wouldn't hesitate for a moment to take the opportunity to put him or her down. Too bad Talon Company fell on their asses trying to kill him.

The waters ran fresh. And this was the change.

Averting his attention back to the whore, he waited for an opening, wondering which route to take. The time window was closing fast, and Ahzrukhal would cut down the contract earnings by half if he did not complete it in time. He kept a fixed eye upstairs, recalling Moriarty's path and almost biting his tongue for not watching to see which room he headed off to. However, it wouldn't matter much, anyway. He was always good at guessing.

With the whore talking to the vault chick and the ghoul busy loading supplies in the back, he was free to roam. The two women stepped outside to watch the ghoul load supplies, much to his luck. He walked up the stairs carefully, making no sounds or creaks since it could be costly for those who were still here. To his surprise, the ghoul lied about the saloon being full. Detecting no one else in the vicinity, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a .45 caliber, highly customized pistol. He reached inside the coat pocket and screwed on a sound suppressor. The heavy, dusty air was quiet for the moment while he trekked across the saloon's second floor, his eyes focused and intense. The silence grew louder with each step; the thrill, even after all these years, was still present. And yet he was calm.

The man had already broken into Moriarty's room earlier, and sneaking into it again he noticed that he left his fedora on the small table in the room. He walked over to the table and snatched it, fixing it low onto his head. And now it was time for the questioning. He'd rather just kill Moriarty in his sleep, but since the Irish prick was involved in his own immoral practices, Ahzrukhal wanted some information. So, the man sat in a chair nearby, making a creak just loud enough for the sleeping man to hear.

Moriarty was awake, but he pretended to stay asleep. The man watched, slightly amused yet pitied the poor bastard at the same time.

"I know you're awake," the man said.

"Why are you here?"

He set his gun down on the small table and turned on the lamp, dimly illuminating the room. "That is irrelevant. What's relevant is the information you're going to provide me."

"And that information is…?"

"Sheriff Simms has a cavalry; six months ago he was just a tiny little bitch waving his dick around. People have much bigger guns to play with now that the waters are fresh. Someone is arming them."

"Why don't you just kill me?"

"If I wanted to just kill you, I would have done it this morning while you were scheming about with your new buddies. And I know the truth. You're a man with something to lose. You're afraid, and desperate. And desperate men do desperate things. Desperate things are stupid. Stupid things cost lives. And those lives could be yours, that whore's, and that ghoul's."

Moriarty sat up on his bed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're going to kill what is going to happen…is that it? You're going to take it all down. You're just like the rest of them. Remnants of the past…a broken system…"

"You're a part of the same system; part of the same hypocrisy as my client," he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. The man exhaled the smoke. "But never think that the same system applies to _me_."

"Then yer' just a tool."

"There will always be a place in the world for people like me. A manager needs a worker, but a worker doesn't quite need a manager. He can farm, build, or domesticate for himself—in the primitive sense. The manager is just there to collect. He has no skill. He only has the currency, and yet, he still claims to be legitimate. He takes the credit in the end. He gets the promotion, bonus, and blowjob. That's the hypocrisy of this system. Your system."

Moriarty shook his head. "But I don't understand why you would fight to preserve such a thing. The wasteland is finally passing through. It's inevitable. This new order…it will restore this shithole. Everything…returnin' back to what it once was."

"Just because it is new does not mean it is different," the man replied, getting rid of the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray. "It's the same system. The same order. My client doesn't understand, but I wouldn't need to explain. In the end, nothing changes. Life is a wasteland."

"What do you mean exactly, lad? There can't be anything worse than this."

"A mob boss hiring gangsters is comparable to a manager hiring workers. It's a similar concept, but with different facades. An order replacing another order. But to do that, you need men like me. Without men like me, there would only be darkness, and everything returns to zero."

"Ya think ya can stop what will happen? Ya think ya can plunge this world back into nothing?"

The man smiled amusingly. "No. I don't think I can do that. And I hope I won't do that. I do what I get paid to do, because there's no sense in controlling an incontrollable world. Why do you think the wasteland started in the first place?"

"But the wasteland is ground zero. It's square one. Yer' just lyin' to yourself now. You're playing against what you think."

"I'm not paid to think, Mr. Moriarty. Because that does not matter. Because it has no worth." He wanted to check his watch to see if time was running out. Honestly, he was intrigued by this conversation with Colin. "And at this state, we're far from zero. Zero is when we're all gone; our shouts and screams of agony, ecstasy, fear, pride, and oblivion echoing about in space and time."

Finally, he checked his watch, and he was nearly behind schedule. He didn't expect to be talking this long.

"Now, I'm going to ask you again, who's funding and rebuilding the wasteland? Who's arming the 'innocent'?"

Moriarty, at first disappointed with the man's entry into the room, was now in a state of fear. He swallowed nervously and looked down on the ground. "I-If I tell ya, will you spare me?"

"No," he said. "But if you tell me, I'll spare the whore and that ghoul. That is, if you care for them. Which I assume you don't."

"Why…? You know you don't have to do this."

"I signed the contract, Colin. So, yes, I have to do this. Look, if you tell me, I'll spare them. Because as far as I'm concerned, they're just as liable as you are now. That's the best you're gonna get."

The man saw it in Moriarty's face. He knew that Colin mistreated both the ghoul and the whore, and he knew that Colin would not give two shits about them if they got into trouble. But, the sympathy in the cold man's face bled through, suddenly looking as if he cared for them. He was probably regretting all of those scars he gave that prostitute, or those times he mistreated the ghoul, or rather yet his slave.

The waters ran fresh. It gave hope.

"Okay, lad. Alright. The people funding this are the Brotherhood of Steel. They've been down for some time, I know, but they're rising again. Elder Lyons is on some crusade to restore DC. I volunteered to help keep an eye out for men like your client. I was the mole."

The man reached for his weapon as he finished his cigarette.

"You weren't good."

He raised his weapon and fired.

--

"Guess that's it, Amata," Gob said. "I threw in a few extra bottles, free of charge."

"Thanks, Gob."

Nova uncrossed her arms and stood away from the wall she leaned against. "You sure you don't wanna stay longer for a drink, hon?"

"Heh, no thanks. It's a bit late. Maybe next time," Amata replied. "Hey, Nova. I'm really serious about moving to Rivet City. If you're up for it, just tell me next time. I might be in town this week again. Plus, I'd like to have a traveling partner…"

"You mean you're going alone?" Nova asked, suddenly a bit frightened.

"No, of course not. But the guy travelling with me is some lame Brotherhood guy. I think he was just newly appointed to Lyons' squad or something, since she lost her entire crew during Purity. He's supposed to be one of the best."

"Sounds like a hunk."

Gob scoffed at Nova's remark, but replied to Amata. "For a vault dweller, you're well informed."

"Dr. Li sought me out after learning that I was the closest to Jim aside from his father. Kind of made me feel special."

"I'll get back to you about that Rivet City thing, kid," Nova then said. "Go back home before it gets too late…or too early."

Amata strapped up her pack Brahmin and began heading toward the gates, back to Vault 101. She waved them goodbye for now, until the week after next, when she'd be back for more water. The water supply had actually broken down awhile ago, so the saloon had to supply the water. That strange woman Moira over at Craterside and Jenny Stahl down below supplied her with the rest. Gob walked back inside to put the caps in the register.

Deciding to stay outside, Nova leaned against the wall again and pulled out a cigarette, looking up into the stars. It was like staring into space from a prison. The odd way that Megaton caved in because of the atomic bomb made her world shrink infinitely. The stars were out tonight, and the sky was clear. Nova moved from the wall to the railing and leaned against it, staring into the distance. All of the atom bombs in the world would never take this sight away. It was what kept her calm as a child. Amidst the destruction and dryness of the wasteland, Megaton was actually very beautiful at nighttime. Nova enjoyed the various lights hanging in the city, and it made every night feel like the holidays.

Breaking her thoughts was the front door opening. She turned around and saw the silhouette of a coated man floating past the door and letting it shut behind him. He was ready to leave. Looks like she wouldn't get to make extra money after all. It wouldn't matter, since she wasn't in the mood for it tonight anyway. He fixed his fedora—much to her surprise because she never remembered him having one—and stepped by her, seemingly not knowing whether to converse or just walk away. Other men usually just walked away, but he decided to stay a moment.

"Looks like you had a long day," the man said, walking over to her, standing by her side.

"Looks like you're about to have a long night," she told him. "That is, if you're doing business."

"Yep. It'll be a long night," he confirmed.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Probably not. I mean, it's not like you're desperate for caps or anything, right?" he remarked dryly.

She would probably take offense, but she learned to take it. Still, it didn't hide the slight disgust on her face after he said it. It broke the charming aura of his. She was surprised, though, when he had an embarrassed look upon him.

"Sorry. That was…rude," he apologized. "No. You won't see me tomorrow."

"That's too bad," was all she said.

"It's just…you don't seem the type to be…" he had trouble finding an inoffensive word. "…this."

She blew a breath of smoke. "And what do _you_ do?"

"Sorry, can't say. I'd rather spare myself from judgment. I'm sensitive," he joked.

Nova cracked a tiny, sweet smile but looked away. He noticed this and smiled back, even though she didn't see. A strange silence then fell upon them, like some kind of line was crossed, or even erased. They both felt a tinge of peculiarity, as if they were not themselves for that moment.

"No, really…" she then said, breaking the silence. "What do you do?"

He shrugged. "Well, I make a living by finding people, looting their homes, and interrogating them for information. And occasionally I might run into competitors who find that I make the business distasteful. I might even hurt people, too. Did you know I also kill them?"

Nova chuckled at his reply. "That's funny, because I also whore myself out to every man I see."

"Even the ghoul?"

"_Especially_ the ghoul," she joked.

"Well, I know that's not true because I haven't fallen into your spell yet," he then said.

She gave him another smile. "But I do not yet know if what you say is true, but I think I have my own judgment."

"Hey, careful with that, I'm sensitive to judgment, remember?"

"Uh huh."

They both shared a moment of light laughter together, but tried to keep their eyes away so that the moment was not uncomfortable. Nova felt a subtle warmth inside of her, since he was probably the first person to talk to her without jumping straight to her services. He didn't even want her services. This was probably what drew her to him right now; it was probably why she didn't walk out on him, telling him expletively how repulsive he might have been.

"Heard you were going to Rivet City," he then said.

"Oh, that?" she remembered. "Yeah. Well, no. Actually, I'm not sure."

"You should go," he said. "It's better than this place. Even heard Tenpenny's still opting to set the bomb off."

"Yeah, but," she shrugged with uncertainty. "Well…what other job would I get? I'm probably just going to do _this_ again. I'm just replacing the same system with a similar one, right?"

He shook his head. "You look like you're better at other things. You've got that air around you."

Nova finished her cigarette and tossed it down to the city below.

"Usually, other men don't take time to notice."

"It's intoxicating," he charmingly remarked. "Who you are is not what you do…or _who_ you do…"

She openly laughed at his comment because of the strange way it was delivered.

"Thanks."

The man then looked at his watch and sighed, half-disappointed that he couldn't stick around longer. "Well, it's getting late, and I'm falling behind schedule."

"You should get going, then. Wouldn't wanna keep you."

Before he left, he held his hand out to her, to which she stared strangely. Rarely did she ever receive a gesture of friendship.

"What's your name?" he then asked.

Nova cautiously shook his hand. "Nova. My name's Nova."

"I'm Garrick," he said. "Maybe I'll see you around some time."

Nova's expression fluttered for a moment.

"Sure thing, babe."

And with a final nod the strange man, Garrick, turned away and left, lost into the scraps of Megaton. She was a cynical one, though. Maybe she wouldn't see him again. Sighing, she turned away and walked back inside, still thinking about the stranger she had just met minutes ago. Making her way up the stairs, she planned to visit Moriarty.

The waters ran fresh. Yes they did.

When she opened the door to his room, the smell of cigarette smoke emanated from the ashtray on the small table. Was someone in here? Moriarty was sleeping, though in a strange position. Maybe he had a nightmare and needed a drag. But she could feel that someone other than her boss was in here. Stepping a few feet closer to the Irishman, she examined his body, and noted the two holes located in his sternum. Her breathing quickened as she turned around towards the table and noted two bullet shells resting about on the floor. Nova picked one of them up and inspected it. Her father was a mercenary, and before he was killed, he trained her in the combat arts every day. She would at least know what kind of bullets they were. Customized .45 ACPs.

She turned back to Moriarty and stared with ghastliness, her now-pale face drained of blood. The night felt even colder than it had. Gob rushed upstairs when he heard her stumble over the chair, falling to the ground. He came up and inspected her, then noticed the dead body.

So, Garrick was a killer after all. Funny, since he had admitted it to her earlier.

All the hope in her life had died at that moment. She had deceived herself in believing that he wasn't a murderer. Everything that she had believed in—Project Purity, the generosity of strangers, the goodness of people—had vanished. Nova shook her head. She hated everything now, for some reason, since she felt betrayed. It seemed now that she would have to either run the saloon with Gob or find work somewhere else. Her entire world seemed to crumble beneath her feet.

The waters ran fresh. But the future was uncertain.

And the man even told the truth. What a funny, funny world.

**AN: Just wanted to let you know that Nova will NOT be a central character to the story. Sorry if you were interested. I just wanted to introduce you to my original character, Garrick, and how he affects people around him (in this case, Nova). There's a slight twist to him, and I'll probably reveal it later in the story. Please review, guys. I'd like to know what you think. If the reception is good by the next few chapters, I might pull this one through.**


	2. Hope and Threats

**Hey, all, thanks for the reviews! This chapter kind of gets the ball rolling since the last chapter was more of an introduction, so I hope you enjoy.**

**Chapter 2: Hope and Threats**

_Good morning, Capital Wasteland, it's ya favorite disc jockey, Three Dog! And I'm here to interrupt you with some good ol' news. Okay. It's been six months since those wild antics over at Project Purity, and it looks like the work put in by our favorite Vault Dweller, Jimmy Jr., has paid off. Hats off to the legendary Wanderer. You will be missed, and every day we are thankful for your sacrifice._

_Now get this, children. Looks like we ain't completely outta the shadows just yet. There have been reports of increasing Talon Company members causin' trouble out in the wasteland. Looks like they're into makin' an army or some shit, don't it? On top of that, there's been a deathfest out there. Sonora Cruz, leader of the Regulators, and Daniel Littlehorn, the head of Littlehorn & Associates, have been found dead hanging from an old tree just outside of the ruins. And now, the local mobster mister Colin Moriarty of Megaton is dead, too. Looks like someone's on the hunt, and he or she doesn't care who dies. Reminds you of yesterday, doesn't it, folks? That's it for this session of the news, children. Now, for some music._

_--_

Did she actually smell grass for the first time? Sarah Lyons stretched and yawned as she stared over the balcony over the Citadel courtyard, where already Brotherhood initiates were training frantically. Today, she wouldn't have much to do other than help her father prepare for the speech he was going to give at Rivet City this weekend. Sarah noticed patches of grass all over the courtyard, and for a moment she was somewhat thrilled. However, the sound of gunfire by the initiates brought her back down to reality. The world was not rebuilt yet. There are still many out there who would try to bring down the bit of peace that had come along. She had to stay vigilant.

Sarah put on her Sentinel's uniform, which consisted of an exclusively tailored pants, shirt, and coat outfit, because she hated wearing those ridiculous robes. The last thing she did after putting on her boots was pinning the sentinel badge on her coat. When she was ready, she stood in front of the mirror next to the door and took a look at herself, scanning for anything that would make her appearance less pleasant than it should be.

After awhile, she rolled her eyes and scoffed, cursing herself for taking so much accountability into appearance—especially since she was a soldier. She blamed it on her femininity, and was even surprised by the fact that her face remained young and beautiful after all those hard-fought battles. She knew her appearance posed as a weakness. It was why she trembled at the sight of the Lone Wanderer's sacrifice. Ever since that day, she realized that this young man had done more for the wasteland than the Brotherhood had done in decades. Her father even admitted it. Since then, she swore to be even more active in not only securing her part in the wasteland, but extending peace and order throughout. Right now, there could be a woman and her child being murdered behind some irradiated rock just south of Old Olney. The thought of something so brutal, to die at the hands of a stranger in the middle of nowhere sent chills up her spine for some reason.

Ugh! She cursed herself again, this time opening the door and heading out, slamming it behind her. She could not be weak. Any bit of weakness could become the roots for failure, and to have made it this far she considered herself lucky. Leaving the thoughts of weakness behind, Sarah walked down the halls, looking forward to meeting her father for breakfast.

--

**11:00 PM – Last Night**

"Is he dead?" asked the gravelly voice of Ahzrukhal.

"Yes."

"Hmm, good," the ghoul replied, leaning over the counter of The Ninth Circle. The place was closed since it was late, and the only people present were him, Garrick, and Charon, Ahzrukhal's personal slave and bodyguard. "So, what did he tell you?"

Garrick sat on the barstool and lit another cigarette. "Brotherhood. Lyons."

"So, the big bad Brotherhood is taking over this hellhole at last, eh?"

The ghoul let out a wheezing spout of laughter and turned around towards the bar, snatching two shot glasses and some whiskey.

"You done good, boyo," he nodded, pouring the whiskey. "Charon! Go get the caps!"

"Yes, Ahzrukhal."

The ghoul in the white suit lifted his shot glass to Garrick. "To the wasteland."

Garrick held his glass and nodded in return, then took the entire shot of whiskey. They waited a few more seconds to the sound of Charon shuffling through Ahzrukhal's desk, where he had kept the contract earnings earlier. After a few minutes, Charon returned and handed the earnings to Ahzrukhal, who then handed them to Garrick.

"Mr. Ahzrukhal," Garrick then spoke. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"You ain't stayin' for more drinks?"

Garrick was already halfway out the door. The assassin turned around and only shook his head to the ghoul, and then gave him a gesture of goodbye. The door shut behind him and he began heading towards the exit to Underworld.

_Gerald put his earnings into a small pouch hanging on his belt. "That's what's wrong with people like them."_

_"What is?" Garrick asked._

_The mecenary ran a hand through his short, dirty blond hair. "Simple pleasures. He's too stupid to see the big picture."_

_"Enlighten me."_

_"Men like him, they can kill, or order other men to do so," Gerald began explaining. "But they don't think. They just do things. They're not like you. You think for yourself."_

_Garrick shrugged. "Comes with freelancing."_

_"Of course," Gerald said, "but you're different. You've got something murderous within you. You always have. There's something there that just doesn't come with everyone."_

_"It's the wasteland. Everyone's murderous."_

_"You're different. You can do anything."_

_The killer raised an eyebrow. "Only if the pay is good."_

_"And even then, what are you going to do with all your money? After you've murdered everyone you can, what will you do? How will you spend the money? Are you sure it's the only reason you do this?"_

He walked down the Mall, which had scattered wastelanders walking throughout, trading and conversing. The Super Mutants that once occupied this area were wiped out by the Brotherhood of Steel, and a new town was established here. The rubble removal was still being carried out, the hums of machinery echoing from a distance. Even at this time, there were still a few civilians out. He had never seen so many people in one place before.

An upside to this movement towards civilization was that there was more housing for travelers. A few of the buildings had been cleared out and were re-decorated as hotel services or stores. It was only six months, but the progress was extraordinary. Brotherhood Paladins also patrolled the streets, waiting to pounce on anyone here to disturb the peace. In a way, Garrick could see the future evolve towards totalitarianism, though he never wanted to make assumptions. He made a turn into one of the buildings, which is where his hotel room was located.

"_I'll spend it on guns, whores, and whiskey," Garrick remarked. "And maybe a spot in Tenpenny Tower."_

_"You ain't that kind of guy. And quit being such a smartass right now. I'm trying to level with you."_

_"What the hell are you suggesting, then?"_

_Gerald suddenly stopped at the bottom of the steps they had just descended and pointed a finger at Garrick. The contract killer sighed._

_"You're the best I know, and you can be more than what you do," Gerald said. "You can be more than what you are. I mean, don't you hate spending time with these lowlifes? Don't you hate them? You kill people for these insufferable idiots who aren't even worth what they pay."_

_Gerald was a morally inclined mercenary. Instead of doing what they had to do and spending the money on useless things, Gerald instead felt that he had to fight in the name of nobleness, which Garrick laughed upon at times. But now, the lectures had become nearly intolerable._

He walked inside the building and greeted the person upfront before heading to his room. Before he left, though, the woman at the front counter stopped him.

"Um, sir?" she smiled nervously, as if she were shy to talk to him. "There were a few men looking for you earlier. Or, at least I think they were looking for you. The way they described…well, it matched your appearance so I—"

"When?" Garrick interrupted, ceasing her mouthful delivery.

"I-It was awhile ago, before you decided to go out into town."

Suspicion seized him for a moment. Nothing was safe. Assume the worst.

"Anything happen after that?" he asked.

"Uh, well…no, but—"

He gave her a deep stare. "Anything at all?"

She giggled anxiously. "Um…the elevator stopped working for awhile. But, I-I think that was just a power problem. It's working again."

Garrick raised an eyebrow and looked around, but nodded in the end. "Okay."

He headed up to his level, which was four floors up, but decided to take the stairs; he couldn't take any chances. She looked like she was trying to catch her breath after talking to him. Maybe he'd come back down later and try to use her for more information.

"_I mean, look at us, man," Gerald shook his head. "We look like Talon Company here."_

_"Gerald," Garrick then said, his light mood suddenly turning heavier. "I'll draw the line. I'm not a regulator. Nor am I one of Littlehorn's bitches. I don't feed off of murdering the innocent or the evil. You might give assistance when the world asks for help, but I give a price."_

_"That's meaningless."_

_"No, it is not. You say that I'm the best you know. You know why I'm the best? Because I don't bind myself to useless rules. Ideals were the reason why they dropped the nuke in 2077. Conflicting ideologies. If the world needs help from the best, then it will have to pay for its own faults. Otherwise, I will only help those who can afford me."_

_Gerald shook his head. "But that's wrong."_

He slowly opened the door to his room, at first taking only a peek to make sure no one rigged the hinges or the knob. If someone was hunting him, then he'd have to find out who it was. One could never be too sure.

Garrick sighed with relief, realizing that his room was safe. He should have asked if someone had requested the number to his room earlier. Entering the room, he took off his coat and tossed it on his bed, revealing the various magazines of ammunition on his belt. He admired having his Customized 1911 handgun, lifting it from its waist holster and placing it on the drawer next to the bed. It was a rare weapon out in the wasteland nowadays. Everyone only carried either 10mm pistols or .32 pistols. He couldn't go anywhere without it.

Taking off his clothes, he stepped into the shower, letting the clean water wash away the stress of the day. The journey back from Megaton took most of the day since the highway systems weren't quite ready yet. There were only a few functioning vehicles in the city area, but all of them were road patrol.

When Garrick stepped out of the shower and threw some fresh clothes on, he walked over to the built-in terminal and powered it up, pulling up a chair to sit on. As it powered up, he found himself unwilling to sit and stood up, walking over to the windows and opening the one he had tied a sturdy rope onto, in case he had to escape.

"You have a call waiting for you on line one," said the machine. "From a Fisher, Naomi."

Garrick scowled at the name. "Bring it up."

The terminal buzzed for a few seconds before a voice could be heard on the screen.

"Garrick, are you there?"

He turned towards the terminal, which had a screen showing the caller's name. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You've been compromised," she stated, her half-worried voice taking heavier breaths. "They rigged the elevator with explosives. Your computer just activated it. Go. Now. Meet me at the diner down the street. I'm waiting for you there."

He shot a look towards his door, hearing the elevator, which was nearby, sound off with a ding.

"Fuck."

Having no time to snatch his shirt and coat, Garrick, still dressed in his undershirt and pants, rushed to grab his pistol on the drawer and his shoes. Hastily, he zipped to the window with the rope tied to it and kicked open the window, tossing out the rope and sliding down after he dropped his belongings first. Landing on the bottom floor, he scanned and spotted several nearby wastelanders who came to settle in the area. No one saw him, thankfully, and he tied the holster onto his belt and put on his shoes and walked away inconspicuously. It only took a few steps before the entire top floor exploded into flames and sent splinters and glass and rubble hundreds of feet out into the Mall, causing a thick black smoke to sail off into the night.

_A pause ensued between the two, but it was only broken up by Garrick's chuckling. It was like talking to a child. He sighed and continued walking towards the exit, though before he left, he turned around to face the mercenary._

_"So, this is it, huh?" Gerald said. "You and I are through? After everything?"_

_"It was nice seeing you again. We had a good run," Garrick stated. "But, you're not cut out for this business."_

_"You know, the thing about never joining either side is that you're still on a side anyway," Gerald replied before Garrick left. "And every side has an enemy."_

--

"Please, father," Sarah said. "Sit."

Her father was reluctant to do so, but nodded to her daughter's request. Owyn Lyons sat at the breakfast table, leaning his cane against his chair. They sat outside on a high balcony in the Citadel, which extended their view far into the distance, across the Potomac River and into the city ruins. She walked in the kitchen to the smell of iguana sausage, Brahmin patties, and some fresh vegetables and fruits grown from inside the courtyard. Her father had gotten tremendously weaker within the past few months, and she had to constantly assist him, even when he didn't need it. Owyn was always in her mind somewhere.

"Nice morning, isn't it, dad?" she said, sitting down at the table.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

The plates were served to them immediately and Sarah began to eat. She tried eating with a better etiquette, elegantly slicing up her meat before chewing it—with her mouth closed, too. Her father took notice of this and gave a wrinkled smile.

"You're beginning to look like your mother."

She stopped, looked up at him, and set her fork down, neatly grabbing the napkin and wiping her lips with it.

"You know, you always seemed to grow up and act like the boys. You weren't much into the feminine things since your mother was not around. But, I must say you're looking very beautiful today."

"Uh…thank you. But it doesn't mean I'm getting soft, father."

"When are you going to get a husband?"

Sarah gulped and cleared her throat, growing uncomfortable. "You shouldn't worry about that."

"I _do_ think I should, because I don't want to be dead before you decide to settle down."

She worriedly chuckled, playing with the vegetables with her fork. "You're a stubborn man, father. Too stubborn to die anytime soon."

"I'm afraid," her father began, standing up to look into the distance, "that reality grabs hold of us eventually. You know, I have fought for this land for more than two decades. I have led these men through death and victory, in the pursuit of honor and hope. And _what_ had changed in that time, Sarah? Nothing. Nothing big at all. All of that effort…when the Outcasts had left, we were back at square one. No. We were always at square one."

"Dad, don't say that."

"I have failed my entire life to bring this wild land to justice," he said, snatching his cane and stepping forward a few more strides. He did not sound so disappointed though, and merely reflected. "But just look at that young man, James. Just like his father, that one. He came in and in just a few months, he turned this place around. The waters are fresh now, and that's a bigger achievement than anything I've ever done, and in much shorter time. It's such a shame he's gone. I guess it's true that a candle that burns twice as bright lasts only half as long—or even shorter."

Sarah ate another slice of food. "So, what are you saying?"

"How will I be remembered?" he asked, turning around. "Will I be remembered as Lyons the Great? Lyons the Powerful? Lyons the _Fascist_?"

"You will be rightfully remembered," she said, "as Owyn Lyons. A strong, persistent leader who led the Brotherhood through its darkest times, and of course, a wonderful, loving father."

"But will his name hold a candle to those who follow?"

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"I'm _dying_, Sarah," he said gloomily, walking back to the table and sitting down. "I am getting to the end of my journey in this world, and preparing for my journey into the next. You are strong. Much stronger than your mother could ever be. You have your mother's beauty, and you have my strength and patience. But are you ready to lead? Are you ready to risk the lives of the entire Brotherhood to save this land?

Sarah's appetite began to slip away, each following word from her father filling up her stomach. "I…I will be ready when the time comes."

"Then I suppose I don't have to worry about a thing," he said, picking up his fork and finally beginning to eat. "It's just that I'm afraid. It is so easy to make up a truth or an ideal, but so difficult to live up to it. In this world, I am a hypocrite. I preach honor and victory, but I myself have not attained those things. This is my hypocrisy."

"Stop it," she said. Her patience had shortened. "I don't want to hear this anymore. You are just deluding yourself. Our honor is always true. We are the Brotherhood of Steel, and we will be the first to bring order to the wasteland. The brothers in the Outcasts have not seen the big picture. They search for small things that do not matter. In the end, it will be the Brotherhood of Steel who will be remembered as the savior of the wasteland; who led these people out of this chapter of darkness."

Her father shrugged. "Perhaps it will turn out that way, but one can never be too sure. No good deed goes unpunished. And there's always an opposition."

"Which is?"

"Indifference," he smirked while eating a slice of meat. Her father washed down the meat with some fresh water. "Meaning: the world. This world is not cruel, I've noticed. It's just indifferent. There's always some unstoppable force out there. As long as there's a light as bright as hope, there's a shadow that can never be erased. Like a ghost.

"But," he then said, "let us speak of more important matters. I am holding a speech at Rivet City in a few days. I want you to be there, at my side, so we can address the wasteland about its future."

--

_Garrick turned around before heading out and confronted Gerald again._

_"What are you insinuating?"_

_"Everyone has an enemy."_

_"So if I don't have an enemy, will you be my first?" the killer asked._

_His friend sighed and looked down to the ground. "You're the reason why she's gone. Damn you, Garrick. Damn you forever. And now you're out here, killing everyone you can, taking what you can get."_

_The younger Garrick took a breath and his eyes widened. "No. You will not mention Elena in front of me again. Not this time. It's not my fault she hates us now. Don't blame this shit on me."_

_Gerald's eyes began to water, and he looked up. "You just don't understand, you fucking freak. You never will. I will never forgive you for what you did, and I always thought I would. I thought you could change."_

_A rush of emotions built up inside of Garrick, and he didn't understand why. It was a storm of rage, frustration, and guilt that had suddenly came. Of everything that had happened, he never comprehended why his friend kept bringing up Elena. Every time he did, Garrick would become guilty. He pointed a finger at Gerald and nearly lost himself to his emotions. Gerald had tears running down his face, willing to accept things now._

_"You did it. It was you."_

_Garrick shook his head. He lowered his hand and turned around._

_And ending his connection with Gerald, he departed his friend in the Underworld. He opened the door, stepped out, and shut it tightly, closing off all the commotion coming from the inside. All the shouts and sounds of worry were now behind him, and he proceeded to continue with his life. Hopefully, he wouldn't have friends ever again._

He clearly remembered that day. It was before the Mall was reestablished as a civilized district, when he and Gerald would sneak by the Super Mutants to get contracts from various people living in the ruins. He'd hang around at Carol's, then drop by at Dukov's to have a good time, and other things. But now, things were different. He left Gerald nearly six or seven years ago.

An envelope was pushed across the table to him at Lucy's Diner, a restaurant established down the street from his hotel. Apparently, some people were still up fairly late, and people had to serve the incoming traders who delivered supplies on secure routes. Right now, Brotherhood patrols were investigating the commotion. Hopefully the entire building hadn't collapsed. Garrick sipped his coffee and opened the envelope.

"What's this?"

"This is your next contract," Naomi said to him. "You need to take out the newest Talon Company general, Harrison Moss."

Naomi was his contact for the agency that routinely hired him. He was more of a freelance agent, but found that working with this company was the best since they let him do the contracts at his set of pace and method; kind of like how a movie company allows the director creative freedom. She was dressed for business, though her beautiful figure was still apparent through her dressing style. He would have preferred that she didn't wear glasses, though it didn't make her any less attractive. Still, their relationship was almost strictly business.

He set his coffee down and gave her a surprised smirk. "Well, as you've noticed, I was just nearly killed in my room moments ago when a bomb went off on the top floor. It must have been fucking huge if they used the elevator. Someone doesn't like my work. And someone finally found out who I am and where I happened to stay."

"Um…" she bit her lip. "That was Talon Company."

"I'll take the contract, then."

"Just like that?"

Garrick lit up a cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. "If anyone tries to hinder my business, I'll make them my business."

Naomi sighed. "It'll be more dangerous than your other jobs."

"Who's the client?"

"I am," she said, nervously playing with her black bangs. "And so is the agency."

"What?" he nearly choked on his coffee as he brought it up for another sip. "Why?"

"The Talon Company is becoming stronger with every coming day. They're planning to arm and dominate the wasteland, using scientists from the now-scattered Enclave to create weapons and better combat armor. If they become stronger, then there's no hope for the other organizations."

He chuckled as he eyed the cute waitress passing by, exchanging a subtle, predatory glance which aroused her interest. Then he turned back to Naomi. "It's a pleasant change of pace."

"You should be glad our contracts are private," she said. "Otherwise we'd be just like the Talons."

"So if they're already so strong, what's the use of fighting?" he asked. "Why fight a losing battle?"

"They don't have _you_."

"Charming," he blew another breath of smoke. "But, I guess if you're paying well, I'm at your service."

Naomi let out a breath and gave him a ridiculous smile, nearly disbelieved that he would take the job so easily for the sake of money. Was there any reason to this man? All these years, and she never cared to dissect his mind at all. Unlike the other killers that other contacts handled, their relationship was very "one-two punch". Garrick was the one who got the jobs done the quickest, and even the cleanest if he wanted to. It was almost an unnaturally natural part of him that let him work so easily—as if he were made for it from the start.

"And that's it?"

He dipped his cigarette into the ashtray and his eyes shot up at her. "What do you mean?"

"You…well…you never seem to have any other questions as to why you're going to kill someone. The only questions you ever ask are times, places, and people," she said, attempting to dig deepr. Other contractors did it, too, and even had a more personal level of relationship with their respective mercenaries. But she was never concerned with Garrick until now, since the Talon Company was actually hunting him personally.

"Don't ask me about how I do business," he then said.

"But don't you even care about what happens when you kill someone? The consequences?"

"The consequences aren't my responsibility, they're yours."

Garrick was now shutting her out. She felt more inclined to ask him further questions.

"The Talon Company is hunting you. Because of what you do."

"And now you're taking action by sending me to have one of their generals killed. Your responsibility."

"You mean if we never had a contract, you wouldn't hunt them yourself? You never take death threats personally?"

He finished his cigarette, and sipped the coffee again, shrugging. She imagined him growing more irritated with the questions. "It's just business. They're a distraction, so I'll have to shrug them off to work more efficiently in the future."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"It's just a different perspective. I have no attachment to my work."

"Do you have an attachment to anything at all?" she asked.

"Sure I do, but it's none of your business."

"Wow. This conversation is really going somewhere."

"No. This conversation is over," he quickly asserted. "Now do you have any new gear for me?"

Naomi slightly scowled for a second and nodded, somewhat frustrated towards Garrick since he didn't want to talk about anything else.

"Fine," she then said, standing up. "I've got your new gear stored up at my place. I'll fill you in the rest of the details along the way."

"Good girl," he remarked.

**I'll end the chapter right there. The next one should be more interesting, and I'll be using the Gerald narrative often. It's all part of the plan. Heh.**


	3. Instrument of Chaos

**Hey, guys, sorry I haven't updated in such a long time. I've just been really busy lately going into finals and going places during winter break. But, lucky you, because this chapter is awfully lengthy. It plays a little more into the story and backstory and balances it out with some philosophy. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Oh, and thanks for the reviews you guys. I enjoy reading them, even if it's just to make quick comments; they help inspire me to write some more.**

**Chapter 3: Instrument of Chaos**

_He had no idea where he was, but it had been his home since the day he'd been born. They designated each of them numbers. He was number 5. He and the other numbers looked alike, but he never cared to ask why, though he wondered why he never had a name like everyone else. Well, he did, actually. But it was an unofficial name._

_"Garrick?" a voice called from down the narrow corridor. "Aren't you going to come out from your room?"_

_There was no answer. The young boy of age 11 sat quiet and patient._

_The steps from down the corridor edged closer as the sound of shoes knocking against the cold, hard ground echoed increasingly louder. He didn't care. He didn't want to talk, not even to her. When she came in, a clipboard in hand, she smiled at him and walked over, brushing his light brown hair away from his face._

_"What's wrong?" she asked. "Don't you want to play with the others?"_

_"No."_

_"Why not? They all like you. Why don't you like them?"_

_Garrick noticed the scar on her hand, which looked like it was fairly young based on the marking. "Because they did that to you."_

_Dr. Justine Lang looked down and noticed the scar. "It's nothing, Garrick. Some of the other boys were just messing around."_

_"I don't like the other boys. Because they only like themselves. They hate everyone else. I only like Gerald."_

_She wanted to take notes on this, but decided to keep this as a mental reminder. Usually, she would take notes whenever any of them talked to the boys, but Garrick was a special case. He was not hostile to anyone else, not even those who weren't his "kin". However, this case of non-violence would drive him mad, since the other boys were notably more hostile to others._

_"Number 2?" she asked. "Why do you like number 2?"_

_"His name is Gerald," Garrick corrected. "I came up with it, because you came up with Garrick. And I didn't want to give him the same name. I like him because he's heroic."_

_The case of leadership was the main focus of this entire facility, and this was just another note to be taken. Yet, Garrick did not show signs of bowing down to leaders. He could only show respect, but not total obedience. He was an outsider._

_"How is he a hero, Garrick?"_

_"He is nice to everyone, too. He sets an example for the others. But no one admires him for that. No one but me."_

_"Does he admire you, too?"_

_"Yes. We are friends. He says that there's a door…"_

_She fixed her glasses. "Yes? A door? What door?"_

_"I shouldn't be telling you this."_

_"You can tell me."_

_Garrick then noticed that she wasn't doing anything to the clipboard, unlike the other scientists. "You aren't taking notes? Why?"_

_Dr. Lang gave her a motherly smile and caressed the young boy's cheek. "Because I trust you, Garrick."_

_"He says he knows how to get out. And he says when we are old enough, we are going to leave this place."_

_"Why would you want to leave this place?"_

_"He says that he knows there's something else on the other side of that door."_

_"I see."_

_Garrick shrugged. "Well, I guess I feel better now. I think I will go."_

_"Hey, why don't you come with me and we can go play with Elena? I think she'd like to see you. She always liked you."_

_"Okay," he smiled. "Can I bring Gerald along?"_

_"Sure, if that's what you'd like. You know, you don't have to be like Gerald if you don't want to be. Gerald is Gerald, and you are you."_

_Garrick looked up at her, his eyes twinkling. "But Doctor Lang, I never said I wanted to be like Gerald. I never said that at all."_

--

Garrick headed up the subway steps, passing by a few people on their way down. The Brotherhood had cleared the subways, too, and was also hiring people to do construction on a new subway system, along with clearing most of the debris that had blocked passageways for years. People came and went now, though especially through here because Rivet City was close by. There seemed to be a market set up just outside the city gates, stretching on from the street down towards Jefferson Memorial, the site of Project Purity.

"I'm at the Memorial," Naomi said over his earpiece. "Meet me there."

"More briefing, Naomi?" he asked with suspicion. "You know it's dangerous to be in contact so often."

"This is about how you'd approach the situation."

"Oh. Another one of those personal questions?" Garrick muttered, passing a few pack Brahmin and heading towards the Rivet City gate. "It might behoove you to stay in your safe zone. Curiosity can be dangerous."

A scoff crackled over the earpiece. "Why do you say that?"

"Curiosity might even be fatal."

He turned off his earpiece and continued through the street, heading towards the Jefferson Memorial. Of all the places he had been in the wasteland, he was surprised that this was only his second time here. Had he been here during the times of Dr. James and Dr. Li, could he have made a change? He knew what kind of tool he was, and he knew that those who hired him should use discretion. If they had hired him, would he be the one in place of the mysterious Vault Dweller? He considered many things, even if he was not in total support. His mind wandered throughout his wonders.

Then his thoughts turned to Naomi, and her sudden crave for a psychological examination with him. It turned his stomach every time she asked him a personal question. She was a gorgeous woman, and he admitted that he wouldn't mind spending a night with her, but her inquiries brought him to sickness. He would have never thought that she would take such interest into how he works. Perhaps it was her strange way of getting to know him. However, he knew that he couldn't tell her about him so easily. Because it was dangerous. Literally.

Before he knew it, he was already at the front gate to the memorial, and heard a voice addressing him.

"Welcome to the Jefferson Memorial," an old man said. "If you'd like to wait, the tour guide will be here in a few minutes. Otherwise, enjoy yourself. Oh, and please don't touch things left behind by Project Purity. That's under examination by the Brotherhood of Steel. If you—"

He abruptly stepped into the Memorial. "Thank you."

Garrick abruptly snatched a pamphlet and edged by a few wastelanders examining exhibits that were set up to explain the significance of the place. But, the main attraction was the Project Purity remains, led by paladins of the Brotherhood themselves. He stepped forward and past the reception desk, eyeing the few old American remnants that were put up on display. The attractions that were set up would not draw his mind in any closer, however, as he suddenly found himself impatient, waiting for Naomi.

"Punctual as ever," a voice said behind him.

He turned around and saw her with a smile frozen on her features. "Anything interesting to say? Or can I book a room at Rivet?"

"What, and waste your time sitting in some claustrophobic submarine cell?" she asked. "Why do that when you could be out here?"

"Maybe I don't want to spend time with you."

Her jaw slightly dropped, appalled at his somewhat serious tone of voice. "You're mean, you know that?"

Garrick let out a quiet laugh, somewhat lightening the conversation between them. "Sorry, but if you're going to stick around, you'll have to put up with my remarks. Especially the scathing ones," he winked.

Naomi quickly handed over to him a memory drive, which he accepted unobtrusively. Garrick fixed his sunglasses, but remembered that he was inside, and folded them, placing the pair into his jacket pocket. The custom-tailored suit that the agency provided for him was probably the best he's ever worn. A pair of charcoal colored blazer and pants was blended nicely with the white, subtly striped dress shirt and silver tie. He might change his outfitting later, though, to more appropriately suit his contract.

"Come on, walk with me," she invited.

They began following the guide as they blended in with the tourists that looked either mesmerized or bored to sleep with the tour.

"Don't you have any other operatives to look after?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I don't like 'em."

"Because they don't like _you_, right?" he then questioned with the utmost sarcasm. "Wait. No. Maybe they're ugly. Maybe they suck at what they do. Maybe they're not cut out for it."

"Maybe because you're a jerk."

Garrick's conversational involvement had gathered speed. "So you don't like them because I'm a jerk? That makes you attracted to jerks, no?"

Before she could answer, he shook his head.

"Just kidding. Don't reply to that."

For a few moments, they neither traded words nor looks as the tour guide led them along, explaining the past, present, and likely future of what would happen to these memorials in what the Brotherhood deemed "The Second New World," which was a poor attempt to parallel the European travelers venturing into lands they thought weren't owned. He chuckled. Maybe it was a true parallel after all; an order replacing another one. Naomi stood by his side for the moment, relaxed, though he never managed to fall far below tense. He honed his senses on his surroundings even though he appeared relaxed, because, of course, he was being hunted. But, his attention span broke when Naomi left his side and stepped towards one of the exhibits. Her attractive fragrance caught his nose and he stared towards her, gazing at her figure while she crossed her womanly legs and stood at a relaxed and intrigued posture, far different from her usual business take on things. From way her arms crossed to how she let her dark hair drop freely to her slight rhythmic shifting in sync to the music playing in the background, he suddenly found himself staring at her even longer before noticing so.

Garrick faked a cough to break his own attention, casually strolling by next to her with his hands in his pockets, suddenly having no smart ass quips to spew out. She didn't attempt to turn to him, but instead stood fascinated by the exhibit.

"I still find it hard to believe after all these years," she noted as her eyes scanned around the Vault interior models that were set up. The Vault 101 model was assembled in honor of the Vault Dweller, and it showcased the simpler life cramped inside the tight spaces.

"Find what?" he asked, having nothing much else to contribute, somewhat still stunned by her sudden beauty.

She brushed some of her hair aside. "I find it hard that Vaults supported these people for so many years."

"Vault 101 was the last to open around here, of course," he then said. "When I was on that Moriarty Contract, the Vault overseer was there to collect provisions."

Naomi then turned to him with curious eyes. "How did that go? I heard you directly collected the reward from that ghoul."

"Yeah," he said, with no further explanation.

"Does that mean the job went well…or what?" she asked, uncrossing her arms.

He slightly tilted his head with a shrug to signify the ambiguity in his answer. "It went okay."

"So what happened?"

His mind came to the few moments he shared with that whore over at the saloon. What was her name again? He had forgotten, and it wasn't even that long ago.

"Nothing," he initially said. When he could feel her disappointment in not receiving an answer, he came out with it. "There was a whore."

"Okay…a little too much information there," she jokingly remarked, though knowing that she had just taken a hard blow.

"No, it wasn't like that," he said, staring at the Vault structure, noting its plain, grey hallways. They were similar to the hallways where he had come from. He remembered shining flashlights through them, beaming hopeless, wan pools of light along the walls and on the floor. "She worked for Moriarty. She wanted to leave."

Naomi then had a slight hope of nobleness from Garrick. "So you helped her?"

"No," he said. "She wanted to leave, but was too loyal to Moriarty. She needed him just as much as he needed her. I could only imagine how she felt when she discovered his body."

"How do you feel about it?"

He slightly smirked at her attempt, but only had honest answers. "Nothing," he stated. "It's already happened. And that's that."

A moment passed before Naomi spoke again. "I'm sure you softened her somehow if you're mentioning her now."

"Yes, in a way," he nodded. "She flirted with the unknown. And so it was that the unknown would take something from her."

"That's a demonic way to put it."

Garrick looked at his watch. He needed to get back. "It reminds me of a story, actually."

"Really?" her eyes lit up. "Share."

"There's a murderer once. No. Not just a mere murderer. A vigilante. He gets arrested one day, and is thrown in the nearest county jail, where he immediately becomes public enemy due to all the villains he's either locked up or hasn't killed. So, instead of keeping him locked in there, they wanted to test him for insanity by having a doctor come in for examination," Garrick explained. "So the doctor enters the room with the killer, both of them being viewed by the cops behind the mirrored glass window. The doctor begins to ask him a few questions.

"After a few weeks, there seems to be progress, but the doctor isn't convinced. He then asks the killer what had made him murder. When the doctor begins to demand an answer, the killer looks up. He says that this world is a hopeless one, full of endless lies amongst its pseudo-glory."

Naomi's eyes were completely locked onto him, listening and hanging on to every word that came out of Garrick's mouth. Now this was a real answer.

"So the doctor, now shocked, goes back home only to notice that his wife is no longer there. She had packed up and left him because he was so wrapped up around this murderer. All of his effort and energy was spent on this person, as if he had used all his time uncovering a truth. But he doesn't feel anything. It's just what it is. He doesn't feel the same anymore. Everything that he had ever believed in seemed disproven. He then accepted that this world is riddled with insincerity, full of bloated myths that promised hope and a future. This was his answer; his truth. His innocent curiosity within the morally void had backfired. And the murderer is like a ghost; an instrument of chaos that wrecks everything in its path."

She couldn't move after he finished his last sentence and was stunned to say the least. This was the first time she had heard Garrick speak for this long before. Garrick turned away from the Vault model and looked at his watch.

"I should get going," he said. "Look, it was nice being here with you. But I need to prepare. I'll take a look at the memory drive when I get to my room, okay?"

"Yeah," she could only say.

Garrick began to depart the scene, but before he did, he turned around to her, causing her to look at him.

"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster," he said, "and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

She was confused, but he continued anyway.

"Friedrich Nietzsche."

Then he turned around and left, disappearing after the next wave of tourists.

"But why did that happen?" she asked, concerning the story.

--

She shook the surprisingly cold hand of Harkness, the chief of security in Rivet City. Though he was always a strong, yet caring and supportive person, there was always something about him that never quite sat right with her. Something black behind those eyes sent chills up and down her spine, and rarely did anything else do that. But, whenever he noticed that she stared, he always seemed to look away. Sometimes she could even imagine that she saw somewhat of a red gleam in his eyes. Unlike most others, he was especially friendly to her, and the two established a strong relationship concerning the future of this wasteland.

"Evening, Ms. Lyons," he greeted. "May one of my officers take your coat?"

"Uh, it's fine Harkness."

He let out a controlled laugh. "No, it's okay. Jackson?"  
"I insist, Ms. Lyons," one of the officers, Jackson, said.

She nodded, uneasily accepting the hospitality of Rivet City. "Um, thanks."

When the officer took the coat, Harkness turned to them and nodded. "Excuse us, gentlemen."

One of the officers chuckled. "You're the boss."

The two walked along the carrier, and for awhile, there was only silence, both staring in opposite directions and seeing only planes. Sarah played with the fabric of her pants, but before long, she noticed the quiet.

"So, I see your relationship with the rest of security is quite…"

"Informal?" he then said, seeming to have taken the word right out of her mouth.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Well, we aren't a large bunch, so the security team is like a second family to most. Since our main goal is survival, naturally, we're all on the same team."

"So I guess that kind of makes you coach, right?"

"Nope. Team captain."

She nodded, pleased by his word choice. "Nice. I guess I'm kind of a team captain myself, then."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, somewhat nervous. "But, enough of this small talk. We should really discuss the real issues."

"I agree," she nodded to his straightforwardness.

"Your father is going to give a speech tomorrow. I will offer all the security that you will need."

Lyons half-chuckled. "Well, in times like these, I wouldn't say that security is an issue."

"Can't ever be too sure," he shot her a look, surprised by her assuredness. He somewhat expected more of her, but then again, she was human.

"You're right. It's just that everyone is looking forward to this. There are crowds and crowds outside, just waiting for the world to come back to them," she told him.

How naïve, he thought. It was always that way with human subjects, even the strongest, most intelligent, most influencing humans. But he was human, too, right? He can laugh, become angry, and empathize, right? Harkness didn't know, honestly. Whenever he tried to connect with these humans, it was never pleasant, even though he made it so. There was always something new that he did not understand about them. There was something more. He had to know why. He had to know why she believes that there is a 100% rate of success. He had to know why there was no stress in her voice. He had to know, but he was afraid.

"I'm just here to keep the peace, Miss Lyons," he then told her. "Plus, honestly, I'm just a bit cynical like that."

"You're right," she nodded. "You're right in every way. I'm getting careless. All of this change…"

From far away, they heard some shouting.

"Sentinel Lyons!" a voice called. "Your father wants to see you."

"Be right there!" she replied, waving at the messenger. It was probably one of the new initiates.

"Gotta go?" he asked.

"Looks like it."

"Surely, you'll stick around for dinner with the Council? Ms. Li would love to have you with us."

"I'd be honored," she told him.

He watched her walk off, noticing her womanly strides breaking through her usual masculine body language. Ever since Harkness learned that he was an android, he had been insecure about himself, even though he never showed it. Each calculation, each thing he got _right_ was disturbing to him. It was a thing he noticed about humans. It was their imperfections, such as leaving the clothes in the laundry for too long, or forgetting where certain things were. He never made these mistakes. The laundry? Based on the humidity of living on an aircraft carrier, he always knew to leave clothes in the dryer just a bit longer. The keys? They're in his room, inside the drawer next to his bed and turned to a 90 degree angle like they always were, just to signify that there was more than one key. He always knew where everything he saw was. His mind could sort through databases of information in just a few seconds. And he hated it.

This was why he did what he did when he could no longer bear being an android, frustrated and angry with himself. He did what he understood most about humans. He went to Pinkerton and erased his memory. He lied to himself.

--

Garrick opened the briefcase with the agency's symbol etched near the handle. He stood in a hotel just outside Rivet City. Naomi had informed him about the tight security that would be set up there, so he had to settle for something of lesser quality. Examining the semi-automatic rifle that was disassembled, he took the pieces and put them together, the cold metal warming up with his touch. This time, there was nothing discreet. He had to go loud. He read the note that came along with the parts.

_Garrick -_

_Here's your toy. You're still open to different methods on executing this contract, so this isn't a definite option. By the way, I got that iron oxide and aluminum powder you requested. And since you forgot, I got them to scrounge up some magnesium strips for you, along with a container. Can't take any chances, can you?_

It was in Naomi's handwriting. He shrugged and set the note aside, eyeing the separately packaged fine-powder aluminum and iron oxide, both in balanced metric measurements. There was also a weak, but easily sealable metal can about the size of a hand grenade that came with it. He was planning to create thermite, which can burn up to 2500 °C. A simple mix of aluminum and iron oxide could burn a concentrated path through metal. The magnesium strip was to be placed at the edge of the grenade for the flame to burn up. Before Garrick continued maintenance on his weapon, he noticed some more writing on the bottom of the note.

_And please be careful. You don't know if you're expected._

He scoffed. They wouldn't expect a direct confrontation. This kind of execution was an unexpected tactic for him, and it would definitely keep his enemies guessing. He tried not to feel more curious about the people hunting him, assuming that it was all business. But, he couldn't get it out of his mind; that there was something more to this. Could this job be escalation? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe they'll back off. Maybe they'll stalk him ruthlessly. Maybe they'll destroy his agency. Maybe Naomi could die by tomorrow. Maybe he'll have to ditch the Capital Wasteland for somewhere else.

His mind returned to Naomi's comment at the bottom of the note. Why was she showing such concern for him lately? It was very unusual, but it wasn't unexpected. She always seemed to be at his mercy, even if she was in a somewhat more authoritative position. Why would she care for him now if he never cared for her in the first place? It was something about people he never understood. He could never work his mind around the thought of good nature, because frankly, he'd never seen it. If he did see it, it would result as a bluff used to manipulate someone into doing something. People were always out for themselves in this world—wasteland or not…right?

And that's why he saw no difference; no change in this sudden uprising of government. A gunshot is the same in a civilized world as it is in a wasteland. The reactions of people don't matter, whether they're savages or civilized. What matters is that a bullet has been fired and it hit someone. If someone is killed then that's that. He hated how people enjoyed overcomplicating things, because the world was so much simpler. It's neither bad nor good; neither hot nor cold. It's indifferent— lukewarm—just like he was. Perhaps there's a reason to all this madness people are searching for. But he had an explanation for himself already. Garrick understood the true horrors of the human condition. He understood the lunacy involved in the everyday struggle for survival. He understood perfectly, and he didn't care.

There's a quote by Edmund Burke he read about once. It was fairly hard to find since most of the literature was pseudo-patriotic, anti-Communist bullshit. Edmund Burke said, "All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing." He always questioned why people would draw lines between good and evil. Most people see things from inside the box; others, from the outside. But Garrick, however, questioned why there was a box in the first place. Why can't people just acknowledge the fact that they won't change a thing about their nature? This was the hypocrisy he saw in the social structure.

And yet, he didn't care. He enjoyed the sins and good deeds of human imperfection. A wise man would have tried to spread his word as a philosophy. The wisest of men realize that there's no point in fighting. Just be.

The contradiction to him, though, was that he dropped his views whenever there was a job. And what was most important to him amidst the social paradoxes was that he did what he wanted. It was the true beauty of this world. Garrick finished cleaning the gun and put it away. He would have to get ready by tomorrow.

--

There were claps, roars and cheers from the crowd up on the bridge of the aircraft carrier. Sarah Lyons greeted Dr. Li, Bannon, and Harkness on her way up to meet her father, who was ready to address these people. To be honest, she had never seen so many gathered into one spot. Her father gave her a rough grin before he headed up to the second level overlooking the bridge. Proudly, but cautiously, she led him through the door to the balcony. She had to be cautious because she had just received word last night of Colin Moriarty's death. He was one of their more powerful collaborators, and it meant that someone was out to disrupt the order.

The council, Sarah, and a few bodyguards joined Elder Lyons on the balcony but stood back as he began to speak. He stared at the crowd down below, gently smiling and examining many happy faces. These were good people; they were the future. He held his hands out to quiet down the crowd. The energy eventually subsided and left room for him to speak.

"We are here today to acknowledge the future," he started off. "To those of you who don't know who I am…I am Elder Lyons of the Brotherhood of Steel."

Sarah scanned the area with her eyes, realizing that there were quite a few security guards out. Why was she so worried? She noticed Three Dog—accompanied by Knight Dillon—in the crowd, who subtly waved at her. She gave him a smile, then returned her sights to the patrols, watching their every move.

"We gather here from all corners of the wasteland. I see people of all races and styles. I realize that there are reformed slavers from Paradise Falls who are here to witness this speech. For this, I am truly thankful.

"How long, my good people, have we fought in this desolate piece of dirt? How many deaths have happened in our backyards? How many of us have we killed? Amidst this strife, there are a few of us who never gave up. A few of us even returned to the light. My people…my…children. You are my sons and daughters. You are the strength in my arms. You are the carriers of the dream. The dream of civilization. With the spark of hope generated by the Vault Dweller, at last change can occur. People, we can change. We can change the way we live. We can even flourish. The fight from now on will be difficult, because it is not a fight of guns but a fight of humanity. It is a fight with ourselves to drag us out of this dark era. And only we can do it. We can, and we will."

There was a cheer in the crowd, numbering in the thousands. The entire half of the bridge was full. She noticed her father turning around to give off a proud smile, and she returned one, too. Sarah was proud of him.

"The Brotherhood is strong. Though I have led them for all these years, I can no longer do so. From this day on, I am passing leadership to a much more capable person," he spoke loudly, catching a few ears from the Brotherhood members. Sarah's attention quickly snapped to the speech. "This person, who I hold dearest to my heart. She is the light that shines whenever there is darkness. She is stronger, smarter, and more capable than I will ever be. With the power in me, I bestow the title of leadership to my daughter, Sentinel Lyons."

People should be surprised, but somehow they weren't. Sarah Lyons had become quite the popular woman ever since Project Purity. Everyone came to know her as a dutiful heroine as well as a powerful leader. She was more capable than she thought she was. Shouts and cheers erupted from the crowd as arms reached out into the sky. Her father turned around to look at her, gesturing for her to come stand next to him. She walked slowly, tears building up in her eyes.

"Congratulations," Harkness said. "You deserved it. Go ahead."

She stepped forward and embraced her father, but instead of breaking down into tears, she remained strong and faced the crowd, waiting for them to grow quiet.

"The road ahead is tough," she began. "We've already started making progress. I can tell you now, my brothers and sisters, that change is coming. We will stand victorious in the end. I will lead you through the troubles ahead, but I cannot do it alone. You must be willing to contribute to your future, as well."

She slightly turned to Harkness for just a bit, remembering what they spoke of yesterday.

"A leader is nothing without the team," she said. "And the Brotherhood doesn't fight for selfish reasons. Our Brotherhood is not searching for technology. Our Brotherhood fights for you. Our Brotherhood is yours. People of the wasteland, let everyone know of the change that will spread afar. Tell them that they no longer need to hide from raiders, scrounge for food, or hide in fear. Tell them that change is coming, and anyone who stands in the way of goodness will be destroyed. Spread the word into each dark corner, into each ends of the ruins, into Megaton, into Canterbury Commons, and into the heart of darkness. Tell them that the light is here."

Cheers roared once again, even louder than before as she turned around to face her father and the others, who gave her applause. Her words were high and mighty, but Sarah knew the amount of work that was coming. There were thousands gathered here, but that's only a good handful. It will be a long road ahead.

She turned back to face the crowd, but noticed something different. The security personnel were gone.

There was a breath of pleased laughter that nearly froze her spine completely.

"A very fine, exuberant speech, Miss Lyons," a voice joined in on the balcony with a few slow claps. He came through the door and his guards had seized the Brotherhood bodyguards and took all weapons away. "Really, that was touching."

Sarah's eyes caught the insignia on the man's uniform. It was Talon Company. What were they doing here? The crowd then shouted and screamed as Talon mercs seized the area, enclosing the crowd into one tight spot. She backed away until her hand felt the cold balcony railing. The man stopped clapping and he gave a complacent smile.

"Talon Company?" she then said. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Talon Company usually travelled in smaller packs. Why would such a huge garrison seize an area like this? They were some of the biggest assholes in the wasteland, but doing things like this was uncharacteristic of them.

"I am General Harrison Moss," he said. "And I am here with a proposition for you. Would you care to listen?"

"Like I have a choice," she remarked.

"Please. Enough with the smart-ass statements, Miss Lyons. Allow me to introduce to you a friend of mine."

He scooted out of the way and a man stood in next to him. He was a fairly old man, just a gap older than Dr. Li—probably in his mid fifties. A touch of gray was brushed into his slicked-back hair and he was dressed in a suave all black suit with tinted glasses that finely complimented his rather sharp, but aging, features.

"You!" Elder Lyons immediately said. "I remember you! Sarah, don't listen to anyth—"

A hand quickly pistol-whipped the Elder on the jaw and shut him up, sending him to the ground. Sarah reached out and tried to stop the Talon merc, but they had guns, naturally.

"Stop it! Don't hurt him!"

"People should just learn to shut up sometimes, no?" General Moss said. "Miss Lyons, allow me to introduce Doctor Henry Campbell."

"My, my," Campbell started off. "You've grown into a fine young woman, Miss Lyons. You don't remember me, of course, but I remember you."

He turned to Elder Lyons and the others, who were just far enough away that Sarah couldn't protect them.

"Owyn, it's a pleasure to see you again. How's Rothchild? Tell him that mechanical developments still haven't made much of a difference. Not these days," he said. Then his attention turned to the other doctor within the vicinity. "Ah, and Dr. Li. It's nice to see you, too. You've actually made some success with Project Purity. It's too bad you only had to lose James and his son. What a shame."

"What do you want?" Sarah then asked.

"Ah, yes," the doctor said. He paced around for a few seconds before answering. "I am looking for a man."

"It's not an android, is it?"

Harkness rolled his eyes to her question.

"No. I do not represent the Commonwealth. I come with the few remnants of the former Enclave Science Department. We are looking for someone who will hold definite rewards for you."

"You're doing a good job of convincing," she said, glancing at the guns in each merc's hands. "If it benefitted me, you wouldn't have made an entrance like this."

"You honestly believe I could come this close to you without getting shot by Owyn himself? The man hates my guts," he said. "This man I am looking for, he holds the key to our mutual success. You and your Lyons' Pride will go looking for him. You're obviously more capable than some of these Talon mercenaries."

"Why do you want this man?"

"This is a new age, Miss Lyons. And I'm not going to step aside and let some limping Brotherhood take over this glorious wasteland. Consider this my campaign for the rule of the wastes. And consider this your dropping out of the race."

General Moss slightly scoffed. Some Enclave troopers rushed up onto the balcony, too, and it confused her. Why was Talon Company working with what was left of the Enclave?

"And if I don't look for this man?" she asked.

"Then your father will die," Dr. Campbell said. "Take him away."

"No!"

The Enclave troopers walked over to Elder Lyons and zapped him with an electrical device, rendering him unconscious. They lifted him up and took him away, shutting the door behind them. The doctor nodded and drew his magnum, heightening the tension between them. He walked over to Harkness and kicked him to his knees. Campbell then scooted over to Bannon and forced him down as well. When he pointed the magnum at Bannon, Sarah's eyes widened.

"Do you care for any of these people?" he politely asked her.

"Yes," she stated desperately. "Please, stop pointing that gun around."

"Don't do what he says, Sarah," Bannon said, his hands behind his head. "He's just going to use you. That's what the Enclave do. You should know this better than most—"

A shot penetrated Bannon's head and it painted red with scraps of flesh along the ground. The body fell forward and collapsed to the ground, blood now spilling out of what was left of Bannon's head. Dr. Li collapsed and let out a cry, scooting away towards the corner of the balcony. Sarah's mouth was wide open in shock, realizing that Dr. Campbell had just shot Bannon. The crowds down below screamed with the shots, but were quickly silenced by the Enclave and Talon members down on the bridge. They were already being evacuated.

"There. Now you know how serious I am," he said. "I left a briefing folder in your room. Be sure to look at it, or you'll be picking up the pieces of your father scattered throughout this wasteland you're planning to change."

He signaled to Moss that they were heading out. Sarah fell to her knees and tears began streaming down her cheeks. In just a few moments, the circumstances had changed, and the hill to success now steeper than it has ever been. Could things get any worse?

"When am I going to get paid?" General Moss asked the doctor.

"I assure you that you will receive handsome payment."

Harkness wanted to go over and console Sarah as the Talon mercs were planning to leave, but he saw a flicker of light in the distance atop a building. He tried to hone in his sight and see what it was, exactly.

"Well, this is a fucking mess, Doctor," the general remarked. "You have any idea where this subject of yours is hiding?"

"There's no time, General. Get your men to clean up this mess and we must discuss our business here," Campbell said. He turned to the still shocked Sarah Lyons. "As for you, my dear Sarah, you'd best collect yourself and take a look at that briefing file. Then we can discuss things. "

The doctor immediately left back indoors, but the General decided to stay outside for a few more minutes. There was a quietness to the air up there as the crowd downstairs was being dispersed by the remaining Enclave and Talon Company troops. The only sound up there was the noise of the wind. The man waited a moment and pulled out a cigar to smoke. After awhile, he smugly chuckled and walked over to Sarah, still on her knees, gathering her thoughts. Harkness didn't react, instead still staring off into the distance. The moment was odd and detached for some reason.

"_Yeah_," he then said with a stretch. "That doctor is one crazy man. Looks like we'll be collaborating. I can give you extra help of course, if you do something for me."

The sexual tone that he took while addressing her only infuriated her.

"Get the fuck away from me," Sarah said, returning to a sharp state.

"Oh, so that's how you like it? You're a feisty one, I can tell," he said, squatting down to meet his face with hers. "But don't worry, babe. You'll see that I'm not so bad once we start getting this search thing up to speed."

She could only warn him. "Get. Away."

He sighed and stood back up, turning his sights to his men. "Come on, idiots, get someone up here to clean this shit up. Otherwise someone else will be cleaning up two dead bodies tonight, you got it?"

Sarah glanced over to Harkness and wanted to call him, but noticed that he was focused on something. She looked over her shoulder towards one of the old buildings and saw nothing. Perhaps he was just staring into space?

"Come on, you idiots, get moving!" General Moss shouted. "I swear to God, there will be two bodies for you to clean up—"

She was just about ready to stand up and speak with Harkness when the entire upper half of the general's head was blown to bits following a rifle shot that rang in the distance. The crowds shrieked even more, since this was not a controlled assault, and they began to scurry. Seizing enemies on the bridge couldn't hold back the crowds that were desperately trying to leave. Panic ensued between everyone. The two Talon mercs with General Moss looked around and wondered what was happening. Sarah turned again to look into the distance, and noticed a shadowy figure disappearing from a rooftop. She tried to get past Bannon's dead body and check up on Dr. Li and Harkness while the frightened Talon mercs and Enclave troopers futilely shot at the shadowy figure who was too far out of range. Mercs and soldiers immediately began to chase after the figure, wondering where he or she went. Small artillery fire was unloaded onto the roof, but they were all too late. The killer was gone, yet they still scoured around.

Pure chaos in the form of one bullet.

**Well, that'll be it for this chapter. I know that it was a bit slow in the beginning, but I was building up the foundation for later chapters. I hope to get the ball rolling soon, since I know reading (especially on a computer screen) can get boring if the story isn't entertaining, even if the story has some of the best subject matter to discuss. I plan to provide a balance and at least make the story go somewhere. Thanks for reading. Hopefully, chapter 4 will be up soon.**


	4. Without a Contract

**Hey, guys, it's been a week now, so I think it's an appropriate time to drop Chapter 4 now. It's actually lengthy, as well, but it's an important chapter because we get to see a slightly different side of Garrick, specifically a more pro-active side. So far Garrick's just been a man who has a lot going through his head, with his job being only an afterthought. Here, his characterization is more subtle, but also more terrifying than the other chapters. Hope you enjoy it.**

**Chapter 4: Without a Contract**

_"Hey, kid, you see Dr. Lang this morning?" a security guard asked._

_A sixteen year old Garrick shrugged. "No."_

_"Oh, hey, you're that nice one, right? You aren't like the other guys in this damn facility. But you don't seem like that other nice one I saw earlier."_

_"That was Gerald. Can I see Elena?"_

_The guard scooted in front of him when he tried to step in through the door into what everyone else named 'The Normal People Area.' It was like trying to block a lab rat with some sort of experimental disease or something. Garrick shook his head at that exact thought. Too much Matheson lately. He needed to lay off reading too much __I am Legend__, even if it was the only book in his library. Rumors amongst the 'others' was that the outside was a waste like in the book. Hopefully it wasn't full of vampires._

_"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute there, buddy," he said. "This area is off limits to…you guys…so…"_

_"Dr. Lang has let me through here countless times. Please let me enter," Garrick spoke politely, though the guard could probably detect the irritation behind his voice._

_"Listen, you little shit," the guard then said, taking out his baton. "I-I don't care if you're a nice guy. You pass through here, then I'm gonna have to give you a beating ten times worse than the misbehaving ones usually get."_

_"Really?" Garrick remarked. The guard's eyes flickered for a moment, which signaled to him the psychological state he was in. Garrick leaned in closer to the guard, nearly touching his face on his security helmet. "I can bet you that when you try to hit me with that baton, I'll already have caught and broken your wrist and snatched it out of your hand. And since there's no one around, maybe I'll break a few of your ribs and cause some internal bleeding. Maybe you'll be in the hospital for a few weeks. Maybe it'll be so horrid that you just can't blame it on a 'kid' like me. Maybe you'll be too embarrassed to do so. Maybe you'll be calling your mother while you die from slow painful injuries."_

_The guard, a scrawny, red-haired, freckled man, gulped out of sheer trepidation and backed away just slightly. Garrick's intense look slowly subsided as he, too, backed away and stood relaxed._

_"Or we could be friends and you can let me in, yeah? Hey, I'm not a complete douchebag like some of the others," Garrick said. "Once you get to know me, I think I can teach you how not to be a doormat amongst the other guards. They probably think you're a pushover."_

_"Uh, y-yeah. Thanks."_

_"Garrick?" a feminine voice called from past the open doorway._

_His eyes lit up as Elena rushed past the guard and gave him a comforting embrace. He eyed the guard and gave him a wink before letting go of the hug and taking a look at her. She was beautiful, as always, but she could lose the facility's jumpsuit for a change. The two left down the 'Normal People Area,' leaving the guard behind._

_"Haven't seen you in days," she said. "Not since those dumb psychological trials they've been doing. I've already talked to Gerald. He stopped by earlier before heading back to his quarters. How've you been?"_

_Garrick slightly twitched at the hearing of 'Number 2.' Gerald and Elena had quite a lot in common with each other. "I've been okay. Kinda drained. But hey, listen, I wanna talk to you about something."_

_"What?"_

_"Look, me and Gerald…we're planning…" Garrick looked around to see if no one was listening in. "…planning to leave. Gerald already knows how to get past the guards and everything."_

_"What about the big man?"_

_"Fuck him," Garrick said. "That overzealous bastard can take this experiment and shove it up his ass."_

_"Okay, so…what do you want me to do?"_

_"You should come with us."_

_Elena brushed away some of her blond hair and sighed. "I dunno, Garrick. I mean, you could be killed for that."_

_"Look," Garrick started. "The rest of the doctors—excluding your mom—are starting to get on my nerves. I don't think they've been making any progress with what they're aiming to do. Sooner or later, they're going to start killing some of us. It could be me, I know it. They are going to kill me. There's just not enough room for the originals to stay anymore. They could kill me, they could kill Gerald. I don't want to sit here and catch a poison syringe while sleeping, alright?"_

_"What about my mom?" she asked._

_"It'll be hard, but we could help her out, too. I can't stay here anymore. I need to be out there. I think that we are meant for so much more, you know? I think there's something greater waiting for us just outside this damn testing ground. The honest truth is waiting to greet us outside, and I can't sit here anymore."_

_She turned away. "Garrick…"_

_"What are you doing here, young man?" a voice called from down the corridor._

_Garrick looked down. "Shit…"_

_The man in the lab coat headed down the hallway and approached both of them. "Ah, Garrick. You're quite the maverick around here, aren't you?"_

_"Dr. Campbell," he started. "It's nice to see you, too."_

_"You know that this area is off limits to you," Dr. Campbell said. "I won't have to put more guards next time, do I?"_

_He shook his head. "No, of course not."_

_"Good," Campbell replied. "Lucky for you, I have some analysis results I need to review. You should get back before any of the others sees you in this area. I'll leave you and your little girlfriend to talk a little longer. But leave quickly."_

_"Yes, Dr. Campbell."_

_The doctor abruptly left to the other end of the hall and Garrick and Elena stood there, still fairly close to the 'Other Side.' She slightly blushed upon hearing the doctor's mentioning of the word 'girlfriend,' which caught Garrick's attention. Unlike most others, he was inclined to take advantage of quiet moments._

_"Your face is red," Garrick said bluntly, aiming to tease her._

_"Shut up!" she replied, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "So, you're planning to leave…when?"_

_"Don't know yet," he said. "Still waiting on some people. Ahem. Some people."_

_"Uh huh, right."_

_"You know what?" Garrick then spoke. "It'd be pretty crazy if it was only the two of us who left, huh?"_

_Elena chuckled, but didn't have much to say for some reason. "Yeah."_

_There was a long pause, but Garrick couldn't take advantage of it. He honestly had nothing to say, finding himself waiting for her to say more, particularly to his previous declaration. For the entire time, he found himself watching her, appreciating her beauty, but somewhat bitter with her unreceptive attitude. Usually she wasn't like this._

_"So what do you really expect when we get out?"_

_"Well, if we get out, then I hope there are some nice people outside," he responded. "I've got faith in our good human race that there will be a lot of honest sinning, particularly with the legions of women that will be waiting for me."_

_She turned away and laughed. "Ha! You wish."_

_"Nah, but really. I've got faith."_

--

He examined his body in the mirror for just a second. The numerous scars that distracted his physique were annoying and egregious. Garrick shook his head. He hated taking off his shirt, particularly when women asked for it, because of the many scars. Most of them never cared, though, because they were downright whores who needed the money. For a moment, he wondered how that whore in Megaton was doing. What was her name again? No—something. It started with 'No.' Or was it something else? Nao. No. Noa. Something. He hated when things were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't bring himself to saying it. Naomi? Garrick mentally chastised himself for thinking of Naomi. Of course it wasn't Naomi. Novak. Nova. That's it. Nova. Cute girl. Hopefully she's running that saloon now; a lot better than that Irishman, at least. He chuckled to himself.

He lifted his scotch and took a light sip before setting it down. Now he was just waiting for the call from his contact. Before he could even sit back down, the door behind him opened and Naomi rushed in, quickly locking the knob behind her. She hurriedly turned around and noticed Garrick without his shirt on.

"Oh jeez! Sorry!"

Garrick calmly grabbed his undershirt and threw it on, shaking his head at her intrusion. "I take it you were staring through the keyhole, right?"

"What?"

"Just kidding. What is it?"

She brushed away her bangs. "It's a bit chaotic out there, but I managed to get by without suspicion."

"Oh really? That's quite an achievement," he said. "Of course, if you were the one being hunted down by Talon Company."

"So…chaos means success, yes?"

"I'm still alive."

"Alright," she nodded, heading over to the hotel bed and placing her files down.

She took off her jacket and revealed a stylish off-white pink dress shirt that accentuated her subtle, but attractive curves. To his surprise, she looked quite athletic. Probably was a health freak, which wasn't hard to imagine since the agency was a civilized facility. Before he could stare any further, she turned around and took a breath, seeming to be out of air after trekking through the panic outside. Even though it was in Rivet City, the speech could be heard here, at the Mall, through the radio, thanks to Three Dog and his recording team.

"So…uh, you called me this time," she stated. "What is it?"

"The shit's about to hit the fan," he said. "I want a ticket out of here."

Those words seemed to have passed through her like chems through a ghoul. "Wait, what?"

"The circumstances have changed. I want out."

He had much suspicion as to who was hunting him down. The Talon Company never operated on a personal level, and so it was strange that they would be that way as of late. Of course, it would take a scumbag like Dr. Campbell to have the audacity to even look for him. But right now, the fire was too hot, and he wanted none of it.

"Just like that, huh? Do you know how deeply you are dragged into this thing already?" she asked. "Look, Garrick. I'm sorry. I am. But the agency has already decided. We—I mean, 'they'—know you've done a lot for them, but at this time, losing you is a risk they're willing to take. We've already lost more than 60% of our agents in the past month alone, and there's no way the agency will give additional support to someone, especially a freelance agent."

"If I'm so expendable, then why did you come all the way out here to see me?" he asked.

"I was in town."

"Really?" he said, unconvinced. But, his attitude dropped and he shrugged. "It's only fair that they leave me here, then."

"If you really want to leave, then I can help get you out," she told him. "It doesn't have to be like this."

"Your generosity is appreciated," he said. "However, I'd stay if there's a contract. The presence of Dr. Campbell's already pissed me off enough. So…is there a contract?"

She swallowed, but took long enough to come up with an answer. Too long, however, as Garrick had already detected that a lie would come up. When she noticed his reaction to her pause, she sighed and looked down. "Yeah, there is. But the agency would never give it to you because you're a freelancer. On top of that, you're still being hunted and…ugh…things are getting out of hand. I mean, it's not like you're going to stay for personal reasons, are you?"

There was a pause for a moment, and she clearly noticed that he was thinking. Garrick's expression had turned blank as he stared at various spots in the room, something clearly bothering him.

He then quietly sat down in a seat nearby. "You should go."

"Why? You don't want me here?"

"No, it's not that," he said. "Look, if it's too hectic outside, then stay here and keep yourself busy. But I need some time to think."

She imagined that he was deciding whether to act personally or not. He was, after all, being targeted _personally_ by some doctor she had never heard of. If he acted out of personal desires, then perhaps she could consider him a person. Fifteen minutes turned to thirty as she tried to keep herself busy in the quiet room. Naomi even turned on the radio, but Garrick's silence overpowered the noise of Three Dog's vocal tirades. She eventually found a copy of Grognak the Barbarian inside a drawer and flipped through it for awhile. It was an old edition that she used to read when she was still living with her mother. She wanted to ask Garrick if he had a mother once, because he was so ill mannered sometimes, yet had a degree of professionalism only found in the obsessive types. Naomi shot glances towards Garrick, but looked away when he looked back at her, blocking her face with the comic book.

In the copy of Grognak, she noticed that it was the issue about the encounter with the Spectre. The Spectre was always a person in the comic book that she didn't understand, especially when there were long dialogue bubbles full of things she didn't want to read. Maybe they'd make sense now that she's much older. The Spectre was a person who lived in a lonely swamp, and hated everyone who came to visit. When a beautiful woman arrived one day, he told her everything about the world that he knew. It was not a world of beauty and wonder, nor was it one of ugliness. It was a lonely world where everyone is inclined to their own agenda. He described it with a relation to peasants working forever until they die; working for nothing their entire lives. And he said if this was life, then there's no reason to it. She couldn't understand what the Spectre was trying to tell her, or the significance of it. But later in the book, Grognak arrived to rescue her and chopped the Spectre up to pieces. Or so he thought. The Spectre disappeared, claiming that no one would understand him. And that was the true horror.

Now that she read it, Naomi found the comic book a thousand times more interesting. She stared at her watch for a quick moment, and noticed that it had already been an hour since Garrick had told her to stick around…and he was still in his seat, thinking. The sun was already beginning to fall from the sky. She yawned and noticed that she had already made herself comfortable, untying her hair and loosening up her attire. Frankly, she would be embarrassed if anyone else saw her like this.

"You like music?" Garrick suddenly asked.

"Music?" she asked, subtly excited that he finally spoke.

"Yeah. Music," he said. "There's a great club I know of down in Underworld that's got some music. It's been there for years, and only a few people know how to get there. They got a lot of mock performances of the classics. Louis Armstrong, The Ink Spots, Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra."

"Yes, I like music. Uh, where are you going with this?"

"Would you like to accompany me to the jazz club tonight?" he asked.

Naomi slightly blushed and shyly laughed. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Is that a yes or a no? I'd hate to leave you behind tonight. Alone."

--

They had already dragged General Moss's dead body away, along with Bannon's. Sarah Lyons was already frantically browsing through the files that Dr. Campbell had left for her, but could not bring herself to focus. Her father was the only person on her mind. She heard a knock on her door.

"Come in."

Harkness stepped into the room, but in a careful manner, hoping that he wasn't intruding.

"Oh hey," she slightly smiled at him. Sarah turned around to face him and her face saddened. "I'm sorry about Bannon."

"Death is something we're always prepared for, even if it claims the greatest of us," Harkness said. "But enough of that. Bannon's death would be in vain if we don't get your father back."

"Yeah," she nodded. "The files are interesting. Apparently the guy we're looking for—Garrick—has never been caught."

"You saw him on that rooftop, too?"

_He eyed the view through his scope for just that split second. General Moss was surely dead, since there was brain matter splattered all over the wall. Without thinking for another moment, he instinctively disassembled the rifle and placed it into the briefcase. It wouldn't be long before security would reach up here. Dashing for the fire escape leading down an alleyway, he slid down the rooftop ladder and hopped down the levels, eventually reaching ground floor._

"Of course," she said. "There's also no trace of what he's left behind. They found a recently used dumpster with a hole burnt right through it. There was nothing left of the package that was dumped in there."

Harkness nodded. "How'd that happen?"

_Garrick passed through the alleyways, hopping over rubble and loads of trash with the Enclave remnants and Talon Company hot on his tail. When he made it through and saw daylight, he immediately discovered a concealed place to ditch his briefcase since it was obviously slowing him down. Sprinting to the yellow dumpster, Garrick hastily opened it and opened his briefcase, damning that there would be the logo of his agency on it. He snatched the thermite grenade on his utility belt and placed it inside, though now unable to close it because it took up too much space. Nonetheless, he lit the fuse and closed the dumpster._

"Thermite," she said. "I'm surprised our man would know how to use technology like this. Simple, but useful. Thermite can burn a hole through almost anything. No wonder why they only picked up bits of metal. The briefcase, I'm assuming, was completely destroyed. Maybe there was some useful information on it?"

Harkness nodded. "Possibly."

"I still don't get the real reason why Dr. Campbell wants this guy. According to him, the sniper was the man they were looking for. He hasn't had any luck catching him at all, though," she questioned. "It's even more likely that this killer has skipped town."

The android stepped around the room for a moment, but wasn't concerned about the killer. He was concerned with the man who had seized his city; his city, which was supposed to be impenetrable from all outside forces.

"So are you actually considering going after this guy?" he asked.

"It's the only way my father will be freed," she replied.

"You don't even know if Dr. Campbell will keep his end of the deal. This is still a wasteland, you know."

Sarah turned to face him. "His word's the only thing I've got. I've already lost the Pride during Project Purity, and I don't plan to lose anyone close anymore. Don't you know how it feels to lose someone close to you?"

Harkness bit his tongue, giving off a somber look. "I can only imagine."

He imagined the memories of a wife that had been given to him when he went to Pinkerton, and hated himself for doing such a thing. It was weak of him to do so.

"So you've never lost anyone close?"

"It's complicated," was all he said.

She turned back to the files, flipping through the pages and finally coming across a few pictures, noticing that there were even childhood pictures of the person. "Hey, look at this. These are when Garrick was a kid…up to adolescence. But that's weird. Nothing of adulthood."

Scanning the pictures further, she finally came across some other pictures, though they were only glimpses of the ghastly figure; shadows blurred over rooftops, alleyways, and wasteland mirages.

"If anything," she said, "he should still be nearby. There isn't much transportation around. He shouldn't be far."

"I know a few places that could be used as information," Harkness informed. "There is an underworld to this wasteland, after all."

The metal door behind them swung open with a creak as a few Enclave troopers stood on each side of the doorway. Stepping in was Dr. Campbell, unfazed and calm, even after the assassination of General Moss. Sarah closed the file and turned around to face him.

"So, now you know about our killer," the doctor said. "I would recommend you begin searching at the Mall for traces of him. And please, search in the darkest corners."

"Why are you so interested in catching this guy?" Sarah asked.

Campbell smirked. "I'm afraid, Miss Lyons, that you are not in a position to ask any questions. But, perhaps, if you're a good girl, you will find out in due time. Time is a factor in all of this, so we mustn't waste it. I don't recommend complete military procedure on this one. You'll have to use every bit of intelligence and cunning you can to catch him."

"And what do I do when I find him? Kill him?"

"Bring him in dead or alive," Campbell said. "I could care less."

Before Campbell turned to leave, Sarah stopped him for just another moment. He turned around to the calling of his name and awaited her words.

"How did you know my father?" she asked.

He smirked again, this time to reflect her questioning nature. "That one I won't tell. It might have something to do when your mother was still alive. You know…you really do look like her. I know Owyn has told you that before. I'm positive you get tired of hearing it."

"Don't talk about my mother," she warned politely; as if she could do much.

"You're surprisingly hotheaded," he replied. "I had heard different."

He turned around again and began to leave with the Enclave troopers, but turned to look over his shoulder.

"If Garrick sees you first, you should know he'll try to kill you," Campbell said. "If you watch some of the video samples from his childhood, he seems calm. Don't trust his nature. His ferocity is only matched by his urbane demeanor."

Then he left. Harkness uncrossed his arms and looked up.

"If you need assistance, I'll help. This is my city. I need it back."

"You think we'll find him?"

"From the looks of it," Harkness sighed. "It'll be like hunting a ghost."

"We'll start at the break of dawn tomorrow," Sarah nodded. "You should get some rest."

--

"Where I came from," Garrick said, "the classics were all they played."

"Really?" she smiled, finishing her fourth drink and beginning her fifth.

They had spent hours in the club, and now it was closing. People were leaving and the waitresses were cleaning up the tables. The doors that led upstairs to ground level were open to let out the cigarette stench lingering in the air.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You guys stickin' around?" a waitress walked by. "We're closin' up soon."

"I'm here to see Dodson," he said. Naomi was apparently too intoxicated to care about anything.

The waitress suddenly froze. "Uh, don't know any Dodson…"

Garrick didn't respond, but gave her a piercing stare that nearly killed her. His light attitude had immediately dropped. Aghast, she turned around and quickly headed to the back. There was some commotion, muffled voices in the back arguing about things. He took another sip of his martini and looked at Naomi, who leaned her head on her hand, resting on the table with her eyes shut. She looked like she was barely awake.

"You shouldn't have had so many drinks," he noted.

"I can drink as much as I want," she said, barely articulating the words correctly. "Y-you know…this club…it is…is…is not so bad. My mom used to play this music all the time, you know…before she died and all."

"You lost your mother?" he found himself asking.

"What, do you th…think I just disappear when you're not on…on contract…or something?" she asked, trying to keep her focus on him, though she was more free spirited at the moment. "No. I have no one else, Garrick. My m-mother is buried in Arlington."

"Ever visit?"

"What did I just say?" she somewhat yelled, then laughed when she took another gulp of her drink. "I don't just…just disappear, you know. I stay around, too! In fact, I'm always around! I have nowhere to go! I'm like an orphan! You know what I do? You—you really wanna know? I…I do nothing. I go back to my apartment room in the agency facility and…"

She had stopped hiccupping and looking like she was about to pass out, but instead, stared straight forward, a sunken look on her face. Garrick gave her a stare as if he was obligated to listen to her.

"And I sit on my bed. And I cry," she said. "I cry because I lost more agents that week. Not really agents…more like soldiers. In some stupid war. Sending them to their deaths. Fighting in the name of something useless. And I wonder what my mother would have done, but I can't remember. She's only a distant memory…"

"Amusing. I think you've had enough," he spoke. His voice had been stern and detached all evening, seeming as though he was here on different business.

"Why do you care if I drink it all away? It's not like you lost a mother or anything…did you?"

He didn't answer, either annoyed or just not listening, or something else. A tear began to form in her eyes, but he seemed to have rolled his eyes at her melodrama.

"And I sit there and realize…I'm just…I'm just alone…Garrick…just alone…"

At last, a man emerged from the backroom, dressed in a cheap suit with a red tie. Garrick was dressed in a black trenchcoat over his gray suit, and was nearly armed to the teeth with three types of handguns in different holsters on his body. He was surprised that there weren't many bouncers, and had guessed correctly on waiting so long until everyone was gone. Naomi had stopped crying and finished the rest of her drink.

The man who came to greet him was a rather large man with greased-back hair and a heavy five o'clock shadow, looking like he was frightened just moments ago. Instead of standing up to shake his hand, Garrick gestured him to sit with a movement of his head. The large man, Dodson, gave him a smile and quickly eyed Naomi's body down to her legs.

"That's some nice company you've got with you," he said. "How 'bout a drink?"

Garrick shook his head. "No."

"I'll have a drink, then," the fat man chuckled.

"No, you won't. We'll be through in a second," Garrick said monotonously, unflinching.

Dodson was nervous, breathing heavily but hiding it with smiles and forced laughter. "So, uh, what can I do for ya, Garrick? Been awhile since you've been here last time. Yes it has…"

"You heard about the seizure of Rivet City," he said. "You know that someone is hunting me."

"Uh," Dodson laughed a little. "Don't know what you're talking about, man. I just run a club. We just play music."

Naomi took a deep breath that seemed more like a yawn, trying to stay awake. "I liked the music tonight…"

"Heh, thanks, Miss…?"

"N-Naomi," she said, holding out a hand lovingly. "Just Naomi."

Dodson kissed her hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Name's Dodson. You know, my son plays in here tomorrow. You should stop by."

"You have a son?" Naomi asked happily. She then turned to Garrick. "Garrick, he has a son! I wish I had a child, too."

Garrick's expression still hadn't moved, nor did his body. He just kept a sharp stare towards Dodson, knowing that the fool was just trying to buy time. The fat man made a few compliments towards Naomi for another few moments before Garrick broke the conversation.

"Yes," Garrick said. "I should make time to come for your son tomorrow."

Dodson's eyes widened and he immediately turned away from her, facing Garrick. "Alright! Okay…"

"Tell me what you know. Why is Dr. Campbell working with the Enclave?"

"He's lookin' for ya. I don't know why," Dodson then said. "He's trying to get everyone he can to hunt you down. Heard that he'll use Sarah Lyons to do it. He'll probably try to seize the Brotherhood, too."

"Why?"

"Power, man. What else?"

"Sarah Lyons, huh?" Garrick looked away, finally giving off a life-like gesture. "They'll probably be here by tomorrow."

Dodson stuttered a bit. "D-don't worry, Garrick. I won't tell 'em you stopped by."

"You won't tell '_em_ huh?" Garrick retorted, slightly mocking his words. "So there's more than one person?"  
"They've got this android with them—"

"Harkness!" Naomi's voice reverberated throughout the now empty bar. "That Commonwealth escapee! That guy. Yeah. That guy."

"Naomi," Garrick muttered.

"What?"

"Shut up."

"F-fine. If you don't wanna hear what I have to say, then I don't want to talk to you anymore!"

He rolled his eyes and focused back onto Dodson. "Alright. Sounds like I know where to go next."

Garrick then looked down and reached into the back of his belt for some caps.

"Good," the fat man chuckled, suddenly excited, or more accurately, relieved. "Hey, you really should come to see my son sometime. He—"

Instead of getting the caps, though, Garrick reached for the concealed pistol on his lap and brought it up to the man's face, pulling the trigger once. And once was all it took. Dodson's entire head flew back from the explosion of the bullet particles into his brain and his arms drooped to the ground lifelessly with his mouth frozen open, screaming silently into the heavens with no God to answer. Naomi nearly fell backwards, but managed to retain her balance as Garrick dropped a few caps onto the table anyway. She had never seen a person killed before her eyes. She watched videos of them. She saw gruesome photos of victims back at the agency, limbs torn apart and faces cut in half from horrible encounters in the wasteland. She thought she had seen it all.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" she exclaimed discreetly, backing away from the dead body as soon as possible.

"Naomi, shut up," Garrick commanded, looking at the backroom to listen for the waitress. When he was sure she wasn't coming back, he turned to Naomi. "He was a liability. He's dead. Let's go."

When she didn't get up in time, he stood up and forcefully grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up from the chair and dragging her out through the bar door. She couldn't stop repeating the words, "My God, my God," and began breathing heavily, quickly losing air from the seizure of her lungs.

"Just breathe," he said, taking her out of the Underworld door. There weren't any Ghouls out this late, so they snuck out easily.

"My God, my God."

"Stop praying. It won't help."

"You…you fucking shot him," she said in a more sober tone as they made their way past the grand room of the Museum of History.

"That's right. I did."

She sounded terrified. "You shot him. In the head. Why? Why in the head?"

Garrick took a moment before answering, his eyes still staring at the exit door. "I didn't want to ruin his suit."

Before they could exit, Naomi bent over and vomited on the lobby floor, but Garrick didn't know if it was from the murder or from the alcohol. She was quite resilient for her size, though, taking in more than 5 heavy drinks tonight. Garrick turned away and scowled in disgust, and when he thought she was finished, he dragged her along, straight through the door. When they got outside, she began to resist, struggling for him to let go of her arm.

"Let—let go of me!" she shouted. "Let go of me!"

He released her arm and she stumbled backwards, surprised that he let her go. Naomi stood up and ripped the bottom of her skirt to free up her legs, as if she was getting ready to run. However, she just stood there, hair completely messy and glasses off. She was more attractive with her glasses off. But, he had no time to play games with her. Naomi was either going with him or staying behind; he could give a damn less.

"You promised me we'd have some fun tonight, Garrick!" she pointed a finger at him. "You promised! You didn't say you'd be killing people!"

"I never promised a thing."

"Shut up! I hate you!" she shouted. Then she unbuttoned the top few buttons of her dress shirt and loosened up. "Look at me in this ridiculous outfit. I hate this outfit…"

"You coming along?" he asked, unaffected. "If not, I'm leaving."

"Oh, yeah, you think it's _so_ easy, don't you?!" she asked loudly. It slightly startled Garrick, causing him to look around to see if she was attracting unwanted attention. Luckily, there was no one out. "You just walk around, killing people like that."

"That's what I do."

"What did he ever do to you?"

Garrick's eyebrows twitched just slightly, seeming not to comprehend what she had just said. "…what?"

"He had a son!" she exclaimed.

"Naomi," he said, prompting her to shut her mouth momentarily. His voice was sounding shockingly honest, as the mention of her name softened the tension. "There are a billion people out there. He doesn't make a difference."

"But he never did anything to you!"

"And he never did anything _for_ you."

"Shut up!"

From far away, Garrick could hear the sound of patrolmen passing through this part of town. He saw the look on her face as a calling from behind him indicated that they have been sighted.

"Hey, you two," a patrolman called as they drew closer. "What are you guys doing out so late?"

Garrick gave Naomi the same stare he gave that waitress. It was like looking into a time bomb. "You better not tell them."

The patrols were not armed. Since the Brotherhood's influence had spread, many have signed up for some of the lower jobs, and there weren't nearly enough power armors to supply every signup. This made them easier to dispatch, but Garrick hoped that Dodson's life would be enough for tonight.

"Wha…"

"What's going on here?" the other patrolmen asked. So they travelled in pairs.

"You act wrong, I put them down," Garrick muttered lowly to her, sending a chill throughout her body.

He turned around to face the patrols. "Nothing, officer. Just got out of the bar. Taking my girlfriend back and everything…you know the deal. She's a bit sauced."

"Oh," the officer nodded. He then looked over at Naomi. "Miss? You okay?"

Naomi was now sober enough to think straight, and nodded. "Yes, officer. I'm okay. I'm a little tired."

"Well, you should keep it down. When everyone's asleep, this area's got a silence policy. It makes it easier for us to hear if raiders are coming."

"Understood, officers," Garrick said.

"You two have a safe night, now," the other officer said.

As they stood there underneath the newly installed city lights, Garrick pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips, trying to remain calm despite the situation. He stood there for a moment without even looking at Naomi, intentionally drawing his face back to show his impatience with her, shuffling through his pockets for a lighter. They'd have to be moving soon.

"You haven't quit?" she asked, much more sober now, though he knew she'd probably pass out later.

"Can't find a light," he replied.

Before long, he found a set of matches that were used earlier today to ignite the magnesium strip for his thermite grenade. Usually, he had a silver lighter with him for the cigarettes, but this would have to do. Garrick took a drag of the smoke and walked over to Naomi, offering his help to walk her back to the hotel room.

--

Garrick let out a grunt as he set Naomi on the bed, having carried her all the way from the door after taking off her shoes and her jacket for her. He made sure that she was sleeping either on her side or on her stomach in case she was so intoxicated that she'd vomit, and possibly drown that way. It was a sick thought, but he didn't want to take any chances. Naomi, though, seemed comfortable, even snuggling on the bed with a cute groan. When she looked like she was completely gone, Garrick pulled the sheets over her and tucked her in to bed, then realizing that she was occupying all the space. He let out a short chuckle and threw off his shoes, along with his coat.

The holsters on his belt had two guns; one on the right side of him and the other on the back, for backup. His third pistol was on a vest holster that he had decided to wear tonight. Garrick threw off all the guns and set them on the table next to the bed, heading over to the small lounger and resting down on it. There would be a new set of problems tomorrow. For a moment, he considered apologizing to Naomi before turning the lamp off. But, he decided not to. He hated explaining his actions, let alone his own person.

Tonight, he realized something about himself, though he felt familiar to these effects before. He could act on his own, without a contract. Along with that, Naomi, who had seen countless deaths before (due to the insensitivity training they had for agency recruits), was afraid of him. So was Dodson. It was this fear that gave him that much more of an edge. Maybe it was something to consider for his next actions. Maybe, he could use it.

But it would have to wait for tomorrow. Garrick put on his sunglasses before going to bed and turned off the light, surprisingly heading quickly into a sleep. He'd have to make a long trip in the morning. To Tenpenny Tower. He had to see a man he hadn't seen in a long time; an old associate and rival-turned-businessman. He had to see Mister Burke.

**I'll stop right there for now. Well, you guys probably know where the next chapter is going. Come on, I couldn't write an assassin tale without including some of the darkest wasteland figures! Heh. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review if there are things you'd like to know more about or suggest. I'm always open to constructive criticism and I always consider every review, even if I don't reply to them.**


	5. Lies and Apologies

**Ugh, finally, the fifth chapter is here. I know. It's been awhile. Like a few weeks. Schedule has been busy as hell, so I haven't had much time to write. But, I will say that this chapter is pretty long. However, it's quite slow, in my opinion, and it kind of slows down the pace, but it's a bit more enriching as well. Hope you guys enjoy.**

**Oh, by the way, I also posted another Fallout story called "City of Slaves." It's rated M mostly because of language, so you'd have to change the rating filter at the top of the page for it. Please take time to read it and leave a review! M stories are so hard to finish, because rarely do people ever read them.**

**Chapter 5: Lies and Apologies**

_"Why are you crying?" Garrick asked her._

_Dr. Lang wiped her tears with some tissue paper and but did not want to look at the young man. "It's nothing, Garrick."_

_Usually, the rest of the doctors would be working late, but somehow, Dr. Lang was home earlier than usual. He didn't have as much time to talk to Elena as he would have hoped. It didn't matter. She was out to see Gerald, anyway._

_He saw a bruise on the left side of her cheek, concealed by makeup that she tried to put on. He didn't bring it up, though._

"What are you doing?" Naomi asked, trying to wonder why he was just staring out the window. The car ride wasn't that interesting, and along with that, it was hot since this one was not a newly manufactured vehicle, but a refurbished one that Naomi had bought with the agency's funds. She got it for a bargain price from Tinker Joe, who had moved into the DC area to work on automotives after Purity. Civil development was moving at a blazing speed.

Garrick, in the passenger's seat, turned back to face her. He didn't answer, and instead looked at the road ahead.

_"Some kind of trouble at work?" he asked, trying not to pay attention to her concealed bruise. Even if there was trouble at work, Dr. Lang would come to her quarters, happy to see her daughter._

_"I'm scared, Garrick," the doctor admitted. "But you can't know about it."_

"About last night," Garrick said, reconsidering the apology. Naomi was close enough to him to at least deserve one, even if he hated it. "If I frightened you or anything…"

"You really had me freaked out," she said, her eyes lit up now that he started saying something. It had been a boring hour with the silence in the vehicle. However, she felt that he had more to say, thought it could also account to the fact that she wanted him to say more. Probably along the lines of 'I'm sorry.' But he was silent, and she turned away and frowned disappointingly.

Garrick couldn't do it; he hated doing it. Instead, he stared straight ahead. Tenpenny Tower was getting close now.

_He sighed as if he had been hearing that excuse for a long time. It was because of who he was, and why he was here. The fear in her voice was most unusual, since she wasn't one to scare easily. He put a hand on her shoulder while she sat down and covered her face, probably thinking of her child. It was what most humans did, right?_

_"You're in trouble," Garrick stated. "And it has to do with us."_

_She didn't answer._

_"They're going to kill us, aren't they?"_

"You're not going to kill anyone, are you?" she then asked, breaking the long, uncomfortable silence between them. It was a question that had escaped from the pit of her stomach, which grumbled. Then she remembered that she had forgotten to eat for the entire morning, and instead had been watching Garrick's every move.

"I can't promise you that," was all he said.

She almost choked on the lump in her throat, and it did not pass Garrick unnoticed.

_"I don't know," said Dr. Lang, sniffling. She had a look on her face as though she could tell him everything. "Garrick, I'm so sorry. I tried and tried to convince them…but they wouldn't listen."_

_He slightly scowled at her apology._

_"They should know that it's futile. There's already too many of us. A mutiny is inevitable," Garrick told her. "I want to stay alive."_

_Her eyes widened as his words froze her figure altogether. "You're not going to kill the other scientists, are you?"_

_Despite his sophistication, there were things that only she knew about Garrick upon studying his behavior. There was something twisted inside, even if he was one of the sweetest of them. It was why she had encouraged her daughter to socialize with Gerald instead, and she hated herself for it because Garrick was the only one of them who was close to her. But she didn't want her daughter to be in danger. Even if it meant holding back the most humanely developed of them._

_"I can't promise you that," Garrick said._

Naomi brushed back her hair with a hand and took a breath, trying to soothe herself from Garrick's implications. "Why are we here, anyway? I don't like these people. We're not here to see Tenpenny, are we?"

"We're here to see someone else."

After a quick moment, she blinked, deciphering what he had said after picking it up. "No. You're not serious…"

"Very."

"But why?"

_"Why not?"_

_"I'm not a very violent person," he stated. "But I know enough that I'll probably have to fight my way out if I cannot escape by any other means. Will you help us or not?"_

_She stared at him now, with a certain fear in her eyes. He detected it like a shark detecting its prey underwater. It was the source of his strength, the ultimate dominion over others; the thought of acting and knowing that no one could stop him. And now the pieces were set and pointed in one direction._

_"Yes," she said without hesitation. "But only if you bring Elena along with you."_

_"But what about you?"  
"I'll be fine."_

"Well, you sure as hell don't look like it," said Chief Gustavo.

"I haven't time for this, Gustavo," Garrick replied. "I need to see him."

The chief of security sighed and opened the gate for them, allowing the two to step into the well-guarded exterior of Tenpenny Tower. It had gotten much more inhabitants since Project Purity, filling up quite a few levels of the multi-floored building. The rest was used as a hotel business, like the renovated Statesman in downtown. The exterior was much extended now, too, even having a small farmer's market next to the new guard barracks. Gustavo stood in front of them with his arms crossed, giving Garrick an unwelcoming, obligated look.

"Alright, but you know the drill. Just keep your weap—"

"I know the fucking drill," Garrick rudely snapped as he stepped past the guard. Naomi was surprised that Gustavo did nothing in response to Garrick's insulting demeanor. But she figured these people were used to him.

Her opinion of his conduct immediately changed, though, when they entered the tower to meet undoubtedly affluent, snobby, and ignorant people who thought that they towered over everyone else. All eyes were already drawn to her upon closing the door, with women whispering to each other, judging her, hoping that she wouldn't notice. Or not. Within the first few seconds, Naomi felt that she wasn't welcomed here, even if she wasn't a ghoul. Her paces ran quicker as she tried to stay inches away from Garrick, feeling as though she wanted to cling onto him for safety.

Maybe the whispers were also for Garrick. Were they afraid that someone so real had entered the tower? Gasps resulted from glances.

"May I help you…sir?" the young receptionist asked. Attention had seemed to dwindle now as everyone moved on with their business.

"I'm here to see Burke. I'm an old friend."

He shook his head, seeming not to understand who Garrick was, based on the reactions in the room. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid he's busy…"

"He's not."

"Yes, he _is_," the receptionist asserted. "If you want an appointment, you'll have to wait just like everyone else. And the latest I can do for you is another two hours."

"I'm going up there."

With every defiant word from the receptionist, Naomi grew fearful that Garrick would draw his weapon at any moment. But, she hoped that the public would assure that it wouldn't happen. He wouldn't shoot anyone in broad daylight, right? Right…?

"No, you are _not_. I will call security if you don't back away, right now. Why did Gustavo let you in here in the first place?"

Garrick stopped and put both of his hands on the counter, staring deeply into the receptionist. The air between them grew silent as Naomi figured what was going to happen next. She cursed herself for leaving her sunglasses in the car, because she just wanted to close her eyes as to what would happen next. She even found herself praying that nothing bad would happen.

"You want to know why?" Garrick asked. "Because once he tried to club me to death because I took advantage of his stupid ass and I ended up breaking his jaw, arm, and four of his fingers. If Burke hadn't apologized on his behalf, I would have slit his throat, tie a bag over his head, and watch him drown in his own blood."

The receptionist's initially unfazed manner sunk to one that was appalled, and of course, fearful. Naomi looked away, trying to hide her face from what was going to happen. It felt like a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from, because she could have sworn she was dreaming.

"Now, this was because I was nervous," Garrick said, edging closer to the receptionist. "And right now, you're making me very, very nervous."

He didn't say anything, but his face was completely drained and pale. A long, uncomfortable moment had passed.

Then, Garrick laughed, backing off in a relaxed posture and smiling.

"Just kidding. I'll be back in a few hours," he said. "Is the Federalist Lounge still around?"

The receptionist let out a nervous chuckle, both terrified and relieved at the same time. When Naomi noticed this, she, too, laughed at the moment. The laughs between them elevated, realizing how ridiculous the situation was. Garrick turned to her and noticed her watery eyes as she sniffled, trying to laugh it off. She didn't know if he was going to kill the receptionist or not, but as of now, she didn't want to find out.

"Yes, to your right," the receptionist said. "I have you reserved. Please return in a few hours."

She followed Garrick to the right and wasn't sure if she was having a heart attack, since she nearly died from that previous moment. They entered the lounge, which was not very full, and sat down at one of the tables. A waiter elegantly strode over, a symbol of the tower's society, and happily greeted the two.

"What can I get you two today?"

"Just a coffee, please," Garrick said.

"And you, miss?"

"I'll have the same," she said. But as the waiter began to leave, she lightly raised a hand. The smell of food suddenly reminded her of how hungry she was, since she hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. "Oh, wait. Actually, I'll have the white chocolate macadamia cookies and some French toast with extra syrup."

"Right away, miss."

Garrick gave her an inconvenienced glare, but reached over to the other table and snatched the local paper, browsing through the headlines. It wasn't long before the waiter came over and delivered the coffee, to which, he let sit for a quick moment. She quietly reached for some sugar and cream, curiously shooting glances at him as he read the newspaper as if she was waiting for a response.

"Garrick?"

But he didn't seem to notice her.

Naomi looked around for a minute and fiddled with her napkin, waiting for her food to arrive. She wanted to speak to Garrick, but he was occupied. Every passing moment was getting more frustrating, however. It forced her to remember what her mother used to say about her dad; that he was always busy, whether it was with work or being at home. Her mother told her countless times when her father would wake early in the morning and just read old newspapers across the table. He was a hard worker, but her mother always condemned him for never truly being there for them. When they lived in a small town called Plainville out in Virginia somewhere, where it was not bombed, the community still managed to hold together despite the radiation. Despite this, her mother could not tolerate her father anymore, and they moved out to DC to find greater civilization. When she died of cancer, a nice man helped bury her in Arlington. The man, who worked at an organization, offered her a job. She was only 16.

"This newspaper is laughable," he finally said, setting it down and finally adding sugar and cream to his coffee.

Her eyes lit up and she looked at him. "Really, what's it say?"

"Bullshit."

"Like…?"  
Garrick grabbed the paper, clearing his throat and lifting the paper up to his face. "It says here, 'The wasteland still hasn't changed, people. Whatever the case may be, we will not be harmed by the fiendish intentions of the devils outside. Tenpenny Tower is still the best out there. Is, and always will be.' Nice elitist touch to it."

"It's not too bad," she said. "It's just propaganda. Baseless."

"Not too bad, huh?" he remarked. "They're a bunch of liars. I may be able to tolerate murder, Naomi, but I do not tolerate lies. The only way these assclowns stay alive is because Gustavo has to do business with the merchants that stop by here every once in awhile. And they still deny the outside."

"Oh, like you've never lied before."

"I haven't," he said with a deadpan face, almost startling her with the honesty in his voice.

"Really?" she gulped. "That's…interesting."

"I either tell the truth or I withhold it."

"Then I guess those Tenpenny writers are a bunch of slandering idiots."

"Some people just deserve to die," he said, sipping his coffee with slight vigor.

"That's uncharacteristic of you."

"Well, provided that you don't know _a thing_ about me, I really can't take you seriously, now can I?" he replied in a biting tone.

She crossed her legs the other way and gave him a defiant look. "Judging from two nights ago, I don't think I'd like to."

"Well, you _are_ lonely, as you so drunkenly said that night. Lonely people tend to cling to others, given the chance."

It was a bold statement of psychology, though one that was not researched, clearly. She knew he was trying to toy with her, which she hated.

"I'll just make sure that I don't do that anytime soon, then."

Garrick chuckled and brought the coffee up for a sip, because that's already happened. A quick moment passed before she decided to change the topic.

"What do you think will happen to DC now that the water's clean?"

"Don't care."

"But so many have died," she commented, looking away.

He didn't answer, and instead brought the coffee up for another sip. The waiter delivered the food for Naomi, but like Garrick earlier, she did not want to touch her delivery. Instead, she sat there, clearly in a deep state of thought. He engaged her reactions and realized that she was serious.

She looked back up to him. "Do you believe in an afterlife?"

"A what?"

"You know, an afterlife. Like in religion. Surely, your parents made you go to the local church, didn't they?"

"What if I'm Jewish?"

"Are you?"

"No. I was merely reflecting on your prejudgment."

"That you were Christian?"

Garrick smirked.

"So?" she said, staring at him with her head resting on her hand. "Do you believe in an afterlife?"

He slightly shrugged. "I never really cared."

"Why not? Isn't it supposed to be a wonder for most people?"

To this, Garrick shook his head. "No. Why worry about what happens after when we can focus on the _now_? I don't think we should meditate on the judgment of some greater being after we're dead. Religion is useless to me."

"But you underestimate the significance of such a thing. Doesn't religion guide people through hard times? Doesn't it help?"

"I never said that it didn't," Garrick said. "But I will say that people certainly blow it out of proportion, therefore making it useless."

"How so?"

"Wars have been fought over such a thing," Garrick told her. "How could God really care if people are getting slaughtered every day? If parents are getting butchered and their children are being sold into slavery? If little girls are being smuggled down into Mexico to be a part of some sex enterprise ran by a fat, wrinkly old man who enjoys the company of children?"

His rhetoric slightly sank her mood for the moment as she sat there and listened.

"How could he care if I'm getting away with murder left and right?" he then said. "God isn't there. It's only us."

Naomi sighed and gave him a somber expression. "Well, you may not believe that there's something greater out there, or God, or whatever, but I guess some of us were never meant to be content, right?"

Garrick chuckled. "Sorry, Naomi, but you have me completely wrong."

She waited to hear his response.

"I most certainly believe in God," he said, finishing his coffee. "And I most certainly hate him."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Don't apologize," Garrick said. "Apologies are a cheap substitute for justification."

"I don't have to worry," she said. "I think, in the end, justice is coming to us all."

He gave her a contemplating stare.

"We'll see."

--  
_"I dunno. There's just something about the way you've always been…"_

_He watched Elena slowly pace around his room, running her hand across the drawer as she passed. She stopped and stared at the picture of him and Gerald at one of the indoor football matches that the scientists crammed in a few years ago before shutting it down. They would watch and observe vigorously to see how each of them operated. Every so often, they would sit a certain amount of people, or even just one person to see if it affected team morale. Leadership was what they were looking for. Gerald was a natural leader. But Garrick, he was different. He never felt the need to lead, nor the need to operate as a team. And his attitude was a strikingly different one from the others. To her, it made him dangerous, and arousing. But was the danger worth it?_

_Garrick awaited an answer from her. He was starting to hate waiting for others. He had to leave. He just had to._

_"And?"_

_He didn't want her to lie, obviously._

_"You should just leave without me. If the world outside is as dangerous as we think it is, then I would only slow you down."_

_There was no response from him._

_"What is it?"_

_"Gerald isn't coming," Garrick said. "He said he's only coming if you are."_

_He kept the rest of his thoughts to himself, and tried not to convey what he thought about it. Gerald was clearly in love with her. She was all he ever spoke about when Garrick spoke with him._

_"Garrick…" she said, almost apologetically. But the only thing it meant to Garrick was that he couldn't hold his expressions back._

_"What?" he replied, almost in a demanding voice. It intimidated her, and caused her to turn away for that brief moment._

_"I'm…"_

_"You're what? Sorry? For what?" he spoke in rapid-fire succession. "Look, if you're not coming, then that's fine."_

_He was used to being alone, anyway._

_Elena was going to cry, but she managed to hold it back. "Garrick, I really am. I'm sorry."_

_"Don't apologize," he told her in a rough tone. "You're not sorry for anything, so don't try to justify yourself. I know that you're fond of Gerald. Very. You told me that if we'd escape, you and I would be together."_

_"Garrick…"_

_He took a few steps and gave her an affectionate stare, almost heartbroken but still just hopeful enough. She met his face, a stream of tears down her cheek. He brought a hand and caressed her cheek, wiping her tears away._

_"Were you lying to me?"_

_It was delivered softly, but the accusatory diction managed to hurt her._

_She shook her head. "No. But it's complicated, Garrick."_

_"You wanna know what I saw the other day?" he then asked. She didn't answer, but he continued anyway. "I saw Doctor Campbell fucking with one of their brains. When they were finished, all the poor guy could say was his name, over and over again. They're already starting."_

_"You didn't tell Gerald?"_

_He was silent._

"_Why not?!" her voice raised. "You don't want him to become…"_

_"If you want to tell him, then it should be you."_

_"Garrick—"_

_"He lied to me," Garrick said. "People who violate my trust don't deserve my help."_

_She sobbed. "He's like your brother. Can't you just forgive him?"_

_"No. Leave."_

_His cold shoulder nearly floored her, excusing her as if she were security. She took a breath and watched him sit on his bed, and when she realized that Garrick was actually closing her out for the night, she immediately exited the room and went looking for Gerald._

_Garrick sighed and contemplated for a second. She was a liar, too. A liar, just like they were. Those damned scientists who made promises upon promises but never kept to their word. He wanted to wrangle someone by the throat right now, and watch the life perish from their eyes. But he took a breath and stared at the picture of Gerald and him at one of the old football games. Friends forever, Gerald once promised. Brothers. Where were the friends and brothers now? The scientists who favored Gerald were likely not going to perform any brain experiments anytime soon. Gerald was their Golden Boy, their star subject, their saint. But Garrick knew the truth. They were all liars. If Gerald cooperates with them, they will only use him as a resource until he is withered and dead. Until his soul is gone._

_But Gerald had lied to him. Gerald promised not to get involved with Elena._

_He was alone._

_--_

Burke was not a modest man. Though his voice was smooth and seductive, he was far from a modest, fair person. Burke enjoyed what he did, and it was something Garrick could never understand. How could someone take pleasure in killing innocent people? Of course, both Burke and Tenpenny thought they were doing the correct things. Removing Megaton was supposed to be a help to humanity, as the businessman would put it. Garrick remembered having a long discussion about it, and ultimately decided that destroying Megaton would be bad for business. Burke, back then, being a hit man first and a lapdog for Tenpenny second, agreed, though recent word has it that he's been trying to set off the bomb again. Too bad the Vault dweller had shut the operation down. Now Burke spends his days improving local issues. Recently, he had just extinguished a bunch of ghouls down in the Warrington tunnels.

"Now, now," Burke said, stirring his martini and leaning back in his chair on the balcony, hundreds of feet above the wastes. "Who could possibly be hunting the hunter, _hunter_?"

Garrick, turning away from the view of Tenpenny speaking with Naomi back inside the building, gave Burke a stare, scowling in contrast to Burke's devilish smile.

"You know that news travels quickly, Arnold," he said, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"It certainly isn't _my_ problem," Mister Burke said in a frank manner.

"Campbell will sweep through this place like a disease," Garrick told him. "I know you can feel it, too. Someone has their grip on that _rug_. It won't be long before they sweep it underneath your feet; before it all crumbles."

"And what are you going to do about it?" Burke asked. "Kill the doctor?"

"If a man can bleed, death is always possible," Garrick retorted.

"Then good luck."

Garrick smirked and sipped his drink, as well. "Certainly hold up to your word, don't you?"

Burke chuckled, unprovoked. "Garrick, if you'd like my help, all you have to do is ask. I _do_ owe you one."

Garrick couldn't trust him, and a wave of suspicion came to him. "What's the catch?"

"You're the one who came to _me_. There's no catch."

"Fine," Garrick said. "How far is Campbell's reach?"

"He runs the remnants of the Enclave after that little mishap over at Raven Rock," Burke told him. "Counting the Enclave soldiers scattered throughout DC, I'd say his military arm is extensive. He also has Talon Company on his payroll."

"Is he just looking for power?"

"No, I wouldn't say so," he responded. "Campbell, back in his Brotherhood days seemed too interesting—and smart—a man to indulge in power. He's after something else. Why it involves you might have something to do with something that has happened between you two."

"Don't need to remind me of that," Garrick asserted.

"Who else is after me?"

He leaned in towards Garrick and fixed his sunglasses before speaking. "They've sent Sentinel Lyons after you, and…"

Garrick raised an eyebrow, keeping a close ear to what was going to be said next.

"Harkness."

Though Garrick was unaffected, Burke could suspect an irritation coming from him. "I figured the bastard would be too busy with his shitty boat city. Dodson mentioned him."

"Then you know that they have a good chance of finding you," Burke took another sip. "What happened to Dodson, by the way?"

"He's dead."

The businessman looked away with a sigh. "You can't go around doing that. It's bad for business."

"He was a liability."

"Then you're no crazier than Campbell."

"Campbell tried to blow me into oblivion on a hotel floor," Garrick said. "Somebody knows why. Someone knows."

"I don't. But you don't have to be so fierce about it," Burke said. "You'll get sloppy."

Garrick stood up and put his hands on the concrete balcony railing, staring off into the distance, viewing the wasteland from a high perspective. It was almost beautiful, how quiet it could be when walking alone. But now, things are changing. It's getting easier to track people. Information is passing too quickly amongst the scum. He didn't know why he was suddenly so angry, even though he knew that he should just be apathetic about it. Something inside him was changing, as well. His apathy was slipping away.

"This place," Garrick said. "It's becoming an abattoir of retarded children. The rug is slipping. Those liars and hypocrites will thrive when Campbell takes over."

He turned around to Burke and sighed.

"I've always thought that a system never changes. At the core, I don't think it does. But, it can't change into this."

"Garrick, Garrick…" Burke chuckled darkly. "Proactive now? I never thought you'd be."

"No, I'm not," Garrick said. "I don't think any of us can stop it. That's why I'm settling this with Campbell, and Campbell only."

They both shared a long stare and Garrick reached for his drink again, sipping from it quickly, as if he was startled or dreading something. When Burke noticed that there was no conversation to be made, he turned and took a good look at Naomi, then looked at Garrick with a nod.

"So that woman you introduced to me earlier…Naomi."

"She's my contact."

Arnold Burke nodded and finished his drink. "She's very beautiful."

"Uh huh," Garrick said, detached, still thinking.

"I spoke with her earlier before I came here to speak with you," Burke said. "She's a very nice person."

Garrick turned to him in annoyance. "Where the hell are you going with this?"

"Opportunities don't come that very often."

"Sex is the last thing on my mind right now."

"No, not that. I think she has an affinity for you," Burke told him. The two sat for another quiet moment before he spoke again. "One day you wake up, and everything is gone. I understand the fuel that drives you."

For that small moment, Garrick finally had a glimpse underneath Burke's cold, dead exterior. Burke had never been quite like this before, but they have known one another for a very long time. Though they were indirect enemies at once, they took it upon one another to have the honor not to blow each other's head off. They just avoided each other.

Burke looked away. "It's terrifying."

He chuckled and looked away from the sentimental Burke. "You're getting soft."

"No. Realistic. It's not very often that I give advice," Burke said. "You've at least earned it."

Earned Burke's advice? It was true that Burke was neither a man of sentiment nor small talk. He was always about business, and what he could do to reach his goals. This strange moment prompted Garrick to be more aware of himself, and allowing him to withdraw just slightly. However, it was interesting that Burke had brought up Naomi. Garrick knew, though, that Arnold was trying to break past his psychological barrier. He couldn't allow himself to get too involved in this conversation.

"So what do you think, then?"

"I think you're an unsatisfied ghost trapped in a dead man's body."

"Outlandish," Garrick said, taking a sip.

Burke smiled and stood up again, holding out a hand. "Maybe you're right. Maybe the ground beneath us is crumbling. But I wish you luck."

Oddly, Garrick shook Mister Burke's hand and gave him a nod. "I'll make sure Campbell dies. He's a liability as well."

At those words, Burke chuckled loudly at the realization that Garrick had returned to his old self. "Your contradictions shall be your end. If you track down your trackers, then you will have an opening for Campbell. Sentinel Lyons seems too smart to obey his orders like some dog."

--

_Garrick peered through the gaps in the locker as security grabbed her by the hair and tossed her into the room. She was whimpering, but not loudly. Too soft a cry to be heard from afar. Campbell walked into the room and pulled up a chair as the short line of security stood in an erect posture, awaiting orders. She was on her knees, her makeup messy and hair wet from previous water torture. They humiliated her by stripping her down to her underwear and made crude sexual remarks at her. Garrick could only watch, hidden behind the locker._

_He was in the staff room to find information on the rest of the subjects, and when the lights down the hallway shut down for curfew, he heard steps rushing his direction. That's when he entered the locker._

_"I know that you want to get your daughter out," Campbell said with an almost indifferent tone. "I just didn't expect you to go through my things."_

_Justine Lang cried to herself. "You're a monster."_

_Swiftly, he grabbed her by the hair and tossed her onto the table. Her whimpers turned to cries of excruciating pain._

_He sighed, wiping his hands on his doctor's coat. "No. I'm just a man."_

_She crawled her way over to him, defeated, and begged him for mercy. "Please!"_

_With anger out of her weakness, he backhanded her face, which would likely leave a horrible bruise. Garrick could only watch._

_"You're pitiful," he said. "You show too much compassion for these subjects. You're too weak."_

_While she was still on the ground, crawling on her knees, he kicked her in the abdomen hard enough to bruise her ribs. She shrieked and cried, but no one could hear. Campbell snatched her by the hair yet again and pulled her up near his face._

_"You will obey all orders given to you," he told her. "If there is any more subordination, or if you even dare to look to them with a pinch of sympathy, you will watch your daughter die."_

_And then he threw her to the ground and left with security, leaving her defeated in the middle of the staff room sobbing to herself out of extreme fear. The air was cold and the night was silent._

_Almost immediately, Garrick exited the locker and rushed to her. She looked up to him with tears ruining her makeup. He inspected the cuts on her face and the bruises that had already formed, realizing that they were not as severe as he thought they were. He could detect the surprise on her expression, even with the only light being the pool from above._

_"Wh…what are you doing here?" she asked, choking back her sobs. "You're not supposed…to see me like this…"_

_Garrick was hardly even with her state of emotion. "Stay here. I'll grab you some bandages and clean up those wounds. First aid kit in here?"_

_She was even more surprised at how quickly he acted about the wounds. And she was the doctor. "They're on the shelf. Over there."_

_Quickly, he made his way past the darkness of the room towards the shelf and snatched the first aid kit hanging from the wall next to the sink. As he returned, he knew that she wouldn't be able to put makeup over those wounds. He reached for the peroxide and the cotton balls, dipping them into the liquid and looking up to meet her face._

_"This'll burn."_

_She let out long, drawn, painful moans as he ran the peroxide across her wounds._

_"You should have told me about this earlier," he said while cleaning her up._

_"B-but Elena, Garrick," she sobbed. "I just wanted to protect her. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me…"_

_At that moment, he sympathized with her wishes, and forgave both Elena and Gerald for breaking his trust. They were family, and they had to stick together, right? His eyes watered, but he wouldn't let himself cry. Garrick embraced her like a mother, letting her cry on his shoulder until she was satisfied. Time was running out._

--

"Mr. Tenpenny's a charming man," Naomi said.

Garrick was in the driver's seat this time. "He's an annoying elitist."

She gasped. "God, you never have anything nice to say, don't you?"

"No. I don't."

"That's probably why you don't have any friends," she said, staring out her window. "You're disagreeable."

Garrick found her tone somewhat angry and fed up with his attitude. He did, however, know that she's had to put up with him this entire time. It didn't matter, though. He had other things to worry about.

"The only reason why I've been alive this entire time is because I've followed my rules," he responded. "Compromise is not one of them."

Naomi gave him a venomous hiss. "_Compromise_ is the basis for human relationships. It's something that _you_ don't have. Whenever I talk to you, it's always something bad coming out of that mouth of yours."

He looked away, and she realized that she probably hit a nerve. Trying to get a look on his face, Naomi wanted to see what his reaction was. She was waiting for another reply (something even more biting than hers), but he seemed to busy thinking to himself to engage in conversation, so she reached for the radio and turned on GNR. As she turned it on, she looked at him, to which he responded with an exasperated scowl. Laughing, she bobbed her head to the rhythm of the music.

"Hey, I thought you liked music."

"Not right now," he growled.

Scowling, Naomi turned off the radio.

"So," she said. "Where are we going now?"

"There are people hunting us," Garrick said. "Or, at least a person and an android. I need the instruction manual on how to track down and shut down an android like Harkness. It's likely that they'll find us."

"What? Why do you say that?"

He gave her a deadpan look. "Harkness is a master tracker. He used to run down other androids. It's more than likely that he will find us."

"Uh, I think the Commonwealth is pretty far from here," she said. "Won't it take awhile?"

"No. I'm not going that far," he said. "The only other place around with an instruction manual for an android slave is—"

"Paradise Falls."

"Yeah."

Another moment passed by while in the car. He was quiet. She felt awful all of a sudden, empathizing with all the stress that he must be enduring at the moment. Garrick had been tense the entire time that they had left for Tenpenny Tower, and she didn't want to make it any worse.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He looked surprised. "For what?"

"That little remark about compromise," she said. "And don't tell me not to apologize. I shouldn't have said that."

She thought that he wouldn't accept her apology, or that he'd go on another tirade about how people shouldn't apologize and all that crap. But, for that small moment, Garrick cracked a slight smirk and looked at her. She turned to face him, but only just quickly, since his gaze was hard to match. He reached over to her and patted her hand which was resting on her lap, a rare gesture of warmth.

"It's alright," he said. "You've kept me alive for all these years, right? A lesser contact couldn't do what you do."

To this, Naomi only smiled, and could not say anything else.

"It's just difficult, that's all," he told her, more modest in his tone. "And I appreciate you putting up with me this entire time. There's just a lot of things going through my mind right now."

"I understand," she said. He was quite charming when he wasn't a tight ass, and the way he articulated his explanation made her heart flutter. It was awhile before there was another response from him.

"You can turn the radio back on if you'd like," he said.

She was surprised at this, too. "Oh. Uh, okay."

Garrick knew that he'd have to find his hunters before they hunted him. With any luck, explaining himself to Lyons and Harkness shouldn't be too hard.

**Well, there you have it. Next chapter will have a stronger focus on Lyons/Harkness and more backstory, as well. Please review and tell me what you think! And don't forget to check out City of Slaves! It's my attempt at a more upbeat story that's less heavy handed than this one. Thanks for reading.**


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